The Grey War
by Nathanwhowrites
Summary: This book follows Drew Karshypyn's Darth Bane Trilogy. It focuses on Darth Cognus and her second apprentice; Namon. The story also follows the path of Jedi Kinsa as she scours the twisted underbelly of the galaxy and chases after the dangerous new Sith, determined to stop him before he harms the people of the galaxy, even if she loses herself in the darkness she searches through.
1. Chapter 1

Acknowledgments

 **First to God, The Author of Life**

 **Matthew Kok and Josh Fenwick whose patience and suggestions helped turn messy ideas into this finished product.**

 **Drew Karpyshyn, whose books laid the brilliant foundation that my story is built on and whose website's advice "If you really think your idea is good then turn it into something useful" prompted me to begin this project.**

 **My Grandfather, whose to quest find me all the Hardy Boys got me interested in the written word.**

 **Sue Spires who took on the daunting task of editing my miraculously terrible grammar.**

 **Carole Allison who is responsible for the beautiful cover art.**

 **2 CHAPTERS EVERY OTHER DAY**

 **Reviews/questions/critiques always welcome**

 **A/N I usually use a line of asterisks but those didn't show for this program. So a gab between paragraphs, indent and bolded first letter means a change of scene and/or perspective.**

 **1**

 **R** ogin stared down on the dark forest from his perch, waiting in silence. His infrared eyes picked up nothing but the cool grey of the surrounding vegetation. He had only been out for a few hours but he could hear the clouds rumbling above him, letting him know the rains would be coming soon. He either had to get something soon or go a day without food. If he ended up caught in the torrential rains he doubted he'd be able to navigate the forest and get back to his cave. If he was still out when day broke he wouldn't survive the sun's poisonous rays. His stomachs grumbled, as if they could read his thoughts and were fighting the idea of leaving without food.

He heard a soft rustle near the base of a tree to his right, loud in the dead silence of the night. His cold black eyes darted to the source and he saw the warm orange glow of a living body. His heart immediately started beating, flooding him with a rush of anticipation. He could see the outline of the things warm body. It stood high on four thin legs, somehow supporting its long, plump body. It had a long snout it used to dig up bugs and large ears that stood up straight, twitching constantly scanning for any noise. He recognized the animal as a heroni; based on the size he thought it was a male, nearly full grown.

Moving at a painfully slow pace in order to keep from making noise, he rose from his crouch and made his way over to the other tree, taking care not to shake the branches with his massive weight. In a few seconds he was standing on a branch above the unaware animal, clinging tightly to the bark of the massive tree. Crouching down he wrapped his flexible tail around the thick branch that was supporting his weight. Almost all Barabel hunters used blaster rifles or set up traps early in the night; Rogin preferred to use his sharp, clawed hands

The heroni stood on its hind legs, frantically digging at the tree with his sharp front hands for bugs, trying to get food before one of the many predators of the night found him. Rogin lowered himself centimeter by centimeter down the tree, his tail wrapped about the thick branch above him keeping him from falling to the forest floor. He stretched out his clawed hands and reached for the animal's skinny neck.

The high pitched whump of a hunting blaster pierced through the silent night as a bright streak of red flew from the bushes. It struck the heroni, sending a waft of burnt flesh up to Rogin as he curled back up to his perch and searched the hazy darkness. For a moment, he saw nothing and considered taking the animal and running while he had the chance. Before he made the decision, the cool blue heat signature of another reptilian Barabel, emerged from the dense foliage. Curious, Rogin switched to his normal vision and saw it was red-skinned Boondal.

The distance and the darkness kept him from seeing what clan the red skinned hunter was from, but it didn't matter. Rogin was in Boondal territory; hunting in another tribe's territory was punishable by death. He couldn't be caught. He used his claws to crawl down the massive tree, completely unseen, his coal black scales and matching eyes blending in with the dark night around him. He waited as the hunter walked forward to pick up his catch, gun hanging limp at his side. Rogin lowered to a crouch, one foot on the ground and one on the trunk of the tree. Rogin pushed off with his coiled legs and pounced on the man, his body completely extended. Just before he reached him, the hunter looked up in surprise, facing Rogin with wide red eyes. Rogin reached with his hands for the man's mouth, wanting to silence him before he could call for help. The other man reacted much faster than Rogin would have thought possible. He dropped his rifle and his hands shot up, grabbing tightly to Rogin's wrists. The hunter rolled backward and shoved his feet into Rogin's stomach, pushing him up and sending him flying. Rogin flipped in the air past the man and landed on his back, the soft mossy grass cushioning his fall. As Rogin recovered and turned around, he saw the hunter reaching down to grab his rifle. Too far away to grab it before the man did, Rogin called upon the Force sent a wave of energy out at the rifle, pushing it through the unkempt grass and fallen leaves. The hunter turned and regarded him with a surprised, quizzical look. Rogin gave him a low, hissing growl in response and used the excitement of the coming fight to shake off the momentary weariness that always came over him when he used the Force.

The hunter looked up at him and, seeing the angry red scar across his chest and abdomen, hissed in recognition.

"So, the Blight of Barabel crawls out of his lonely pit to hunt. This is the first sighting in months; we started thinking you'd moved on to a different forest, or died."

"It's not the first sighting," Rogin replied in a cold voice, crouching low and preparing for the man's next attack. "There are, what, three or four red skinned weasels missing from your tribe? he asked.

He felt a flash of hot anger from the hunter and the man sprinted towards him, his teeth barred in anger. Rogin was ready for the rage fueled attack he had coaxed out of the man. The hunter jumped forward with his arms extended, a dark red streak aiming to tackle Rogin to the ground. When the hunter's hands were just centimeters away from Rogin's body, Rogin jumped back into a sprawl and let the hunter's forward momentum crash into him. In the same motion, Rogin slipped his right arm under the hunter's throat. The man's momentum and weight pushed him back but Rogin managed to stay on his feet. He tightened his grip on the man's throat and leaned into the man, using his significant weight to press down on his neck from above. The hunter immediately started to panic, trying in vain to squeeze his fingers in-between his neck and Rogin's arm. As much as he struggled, he couldn't find any space for his fingers to get through. He started scratching desperately at the larger man's forearms, trying to dig into Rogin's scales with his sharp claws. Rogin ignored small stabs of pain and kept his arms locked. After a few minutes the attacks got slower, and then the hunter went limp. Rogin wrenched his head to the left, snapping his neck; he didn't want the man waking up later and telling the story. If word continued to spread, if he became a real and proven threat rather than a mystery in the forest, people would start looking for him. He was certain they knew his general location and, if he wasn't careful, they would come after him. As it was, this was just another hunter who had gone missing, no proof it was Rogin, and there were many dangerous things that could have killed the man.

Rogin released his grip and let himself relax, his heart starting to slow and his blood cooling. He stood up with a grunt, weariness quickly falling over him like a heavy cloak. He slung the smaller red body over his shoulder, then bent down to get the heroni and heaved it over his other shoulder.

 **C** ognus was alone in the barren training room beneath her home on Aargonar. She paced quickly back and forth across the long stone floor, filled with rage. As she walked, a storm of pure Force energy brewed around her, picking up and dislodging chunks of stone from the walls of the empty training room as the intensity of the storm grew. She stood in the eye of the storm without noticing the destruction it wrought. She was too angry to notice, too focused on her failure. It had been almost four years since her apprentice had left, yet still hatred brewed within her whenever she thought of him. She honestly wasn't sure what made her madder: that he would dare to leave or that she had been such a failure as a Master.

Never in her time as an assassin had she failed a mission. She was spoken of to this day as one of the Galaxy's most ruthless and dependable killers. As an apprentice learning under Darth Zannah she had astonished her Master with her quick learning.

For a moment the rage was forgotten and Darth Cognus smiled. Her poor master; after only ten years of training she had risen above Darth Zannah and challenged her, defeating her with surprising ease. But now she was supposed to be a Master, but a Master with no apprentice. She screamed in frustration and the storm dissipated violently, the loose stones crashing into the walls and exploding into dust.

She sat trying to calm herself, to clear her mind and figure out where she had gone wrong. As she searched back the memories flew past with stark clarity. She was amazed at the blindness of her past self. How had she not realized how foolish it was to choose Millennial to be her apprentice? There had been many factors forcing her hand. Chief among them was that she had risen above and defeated her Master so quickly that she'd never had the time to find a potential candidate while she was still an apprentice. So, after defeating her Master, she'd realized her mistake and begun panicking, tearing through the Galaxy in search of someone worthy. She'd come across Millennial on a tiny moon far from the worlds of the core. He was living alone, run out of his small town years before because of his glaring deformity. She had been desperate for an apprentice and, as a young man whose entire world had turned on him, he had been desperate for guidance and somewhere to belong. She had been drawn to him because he was like her, an outsider among his own people. Cognus should have been on guard for his revolt; growing up as an outcast had encouraged a tendency to question rules and authority, and his rebellious spirit had been stewing through his entire apprenticeship. As Cognus looked through her memories she saw the times it had boiled up, over and over, before finally bursting. Cognus saw now that she had been too soft with him, entertaining his ideas and slight disobedience instead of reprimanding and stomping out the seeds of defiance before they sprouted.

Cognus dragged herself from her trance; it didn't matter how it had happened. Her apprentice had severed himself from the lineage of the true Sith and fled from Cognus to Dromund Kaas. She had, for a time, entertained the idea of going to Dromund Kaas and convincing Millennial to join her once again, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He was a weakness and a blight of shame on the Sith and especially her. She had also considered heading to Dromund Kaas and purging him from existence, but knew that there wasn't any point to it. He was a worthless failure and she would only be wasting her time to go after him.

She pushed the thoughts of her old apprentice from her mind and focused on the future instead. She'd been searching for an apprentice for three years and she hadn't found anyone to replace Darth Millennial. There had been a few possibilities, but her experiences had made her more critical, fearful of wasting all that time just to have another apprentice fail. With a forceful, angry breath she cleared her mind of worry and stress and opened herself up to the Force to let its calming energy flow through her. As she opened herself up, just trying to control her emotions more, a vision flashed into her mind.

She was transported to a large open-topped coliseum. Inside she saw tens of thousands of beings from all across the Galaxy roaring in the stands. She zoomed in quickly and Cognus saw a dirt gladiatorial pit, spikes lining the edges. Three combatants were inside, one dead and two still locked in combat. They were two Cathar and a massive black-skinned reptilian she thought she recognized as a Barabel. An uncharacteristically large Cathar was impaled on a spear and lying dead on the floor. In the middle of the pit, the Barabel was using the Force, lifting the smaller Cathar off his feet and choking him. The Barabel had multiple of cuts and stabs on his legs, draining blood, as well as a long scar on his chest and abdomen that she could tell was old. She focused harder on the vision, hoping to discover which planet this would take place on or was taking place on. As she focused in, her field of view widened again and panned out. Below the stands was a large sand arena with empty gladiatorial pits of varying sizes with different aspects to add danger, from huge holes to pockets of quicksand. She caught sight of a geyser billowing bright green smoke in the middle of one of the pits and the vision came to a quick end, jolting her back to reality. Her eyes snapped open and she was once again alone in the cold, still room. Her heart beat rapidly and her skin was soaked with cold sweat, having a vision always did that to her.

Her anger forgotten, Cognus walked quickly across the stone floor and up the stairs to the above ground level of her home. She moved over to her computer, a stark contrast to her bare and seemingly ancient basement, and sat down to get a clearer picture of her vision. She first searched planets with famous gladiatorial pits. She noted certain names with a smile, memories rising up from her past life. She got rid of all the names she recognized; knowing none of them had naturally occurring geysers. She searched the atmospheres, makeup and other aspects of the remaining planets to see which had the potential to produce the dangerous hot springs.

There was only one planet left on the list, Alkaroe. It was on the edge of the outer rim territories in the Albanin sector. She decided to wait until tomorrow to leave, hoping that, as she dreamt the Force would show her the meaning of this vision.

 **R** ogin trudged slowly towards the mouth of his cave, still weary from his short fight and his use of the Force. Jogging back carrying the two bodies hadn't helped either. Before going in, he leaned to the side and let the body of the red skinned Barabel slide off his shoulder to the ground outside the entrance to the cave, adding to the messy pile of bodies. There were seven bodies now, three greys and now four reds with the last entry. He had only ever killed one black, whom he had buried off to the side of the rest. As he walked past the grouping of bodies, he couldn't help but look to the telltale mound of disturbed dirt. He slowed down, lost in thought, bile rising up.

He worked to keep his mind off the mound of dirt just a couple meters away from the entrance of his cave. He wondered, as he had many times before, why he always felt so tired and drained after he used the Force. From what little he had heard about the strange power, it was often used to rejuvenate, but he couldn't imagine it bringing him anything but weariness. His assumption was that one had to be trained in its use in order to fully take advantage of that. The only problem was he didn't have anyone to train him. There had been a moment when he could have gone with the Jedi, but that chance had slipped away a long time ago, and, to be honest, he had run from the opportunity. Now all he had was this, the small but useful tool that was just another advantage over his opponents. With a quiet groan he pushed it out of his head. This was just another thought that led down a path to nowhere.

He shook his head and continued into the cave; he refused to dwell on it. He had done what he needed to do and there was no changing it. He impaled the heroni on a stick and started a fire. His stomachs growled in anticipation as the smell of the cooking animal filled his small cave. Outside the rains started pounding signaling the end of another day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Critiques/reviews/questions always welcome**

 **2**

 **J** edi Knight Kinsa Una held her head in her hands, softly massaging her temples, breathing deeply and clearing her mind. She had spent two long, dreary days mediating between the three tribes of Barab 1; finally, today, she could get on with her mission and search for Force-sensitive children to be taken back to Coruscant for Jedi training.

As Kinsa walked the dark, slightly damp hallways to the meeting cave, she heard a loud argument brewing within. She stepped into the dimly lit room and she sighed inwardly while putting on a mask of calm interest. The three gigantic men, heads of their tribes, were in the middle of a heated discussion, talking about a problem it would, of course, be up to Kinsa to fix.

She remembered how surprised she had been when she had first seen a Barabel, and their size still surprised her whenever she saw them. They stood about two meters tall, the blacks of the Endor tribe usually even taller. They were covered head to toe in thick scales and had a long tail that could be worked independently, like a limb. These ones were dressed in ceremonial robes, similar to the traditional garb of the Jedi, with just a tad more colour. On normal occasions, however, Barabel men wore simple pants and rarely ever donned a shirt. In fact, one of the only ways an outsider could differentiate between the males and females of the species was that the females always covered their torsos with a shirt or some other garb. They had wide mouths stuffed with thin, razor-sharp teeth; it seemed to Kinsa that there were about twice as many teeth as would fit comfortably. Unlike most reptilian species, they had four fingers and an opposing thumb instead of just having fingers. At the end of each of their digits, they had long retractable claws.

There was very little difference besides colour between the three tribes. The black-scaled Endor were the tallest and thickest of the three tribes and had historically controlled the majority of the forest. The red-coloured Boondal considered themselves to be the smartest, but in actuality were just the most nervous, being the smallest of the three tribes in stature, occasionally falling below two meters. The grey-skinned Hoskarr fell between the other two in size and had a significantly smaller population than the others. To Kinsa, it seemed that they were the smartest, the middle child playing one tribe off the other, controlling a large part of the forest even being so small in population. Despite the fact that they were all the same species and followed the same customs, there was constant strife between the three tribes. Constant border disagreements were always close to igniting war between the tribes. Besides this summit mediated by a Jedi, there was little to no contact between the tribes that didn't end in blood.

"Is there a problem gentleman?" Kinsa asked diplomatically

"Yes, there is," announced the red-skinned Boondal representative, Marg.

He spoke in the halting, hissing basic she had gotten used to over the past couple of days.

"Another one of our hunters has gone missing and I suspect it was Rogin."

"The Blight of Barabel" spat Durgin, the black Endor leader.

The grey diplomat, Orin, gave a scoff of disbelief and dismissal.

"Your green hunter just tried to take on something he couldn't kill. Not every problem can be blamed on one renegade"

"Four in a row? Maybe even five. You say all of this is just coincidence?" Marg shot back angrily. "I'm sure if he was still doing his killing in your forest, you wouldn't be blaming it on hunting."

Orin shrugged his shoulders, admitting defeat, but Kinsa thought she heard him mumble something under his breath.

"Who is Rogin?" inquired Kinsa.

"He is a young Barabel of the Endor tribe who ran away just over a year ago and has killed every Barabel he has come across since," explained the Endor chief in a quiet voice, refusing to look Kinsa in the eye.

"And he is a Force sensitive," Marg chimed in.

Kinsa sat up, her curiosity piqued. "A Force sensitive? Are you sure? How young is he? How could he have not been noticed as a child?"

"He's 19; how he escaped notice I'm not sure, but I am sure he controls the Force. He ran away and killed one of his own tribe on the day this was discovered," the hulking Durgin responded darkly, his head still bent.

While it was normal for a Barabel to kill another Barabel, Kinsa knew killing one of your own tribe was seen as the greatest offence.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" asked Kinsa, rising to her feet, her anger clear in her voice. "I need to go now; where is he?"

"Somewhere in the Boondal forest; no one knows exactly where," stated the black Durgin, standing slowly. "If you're planning on going after him, you will need a guide; I shall join you."

Kinsa hesitated. "Okay, but when we find him you need to back off."

The Endor looked up at her for the first time and she saw the dark rage in his smoky, grey eyes.

"As you wish." He snarled unconvincingly.

Kinsa doubted the man's words, but she had no choice; there was no way she could traverse the jungle at night alone.

I'm coming too," the red chief exclaimed leaping to his feet. "It's my forest."

Kinsa nodded her begrudging agreement; she just wanted to get out there as soon as possible.

 **R** ogin rose at the same time he always did, twenty minutes before the sun went down, just before the time to hunt. He slowly rose from the hard stone floor, his spine stretching and popping. As he prepared to go out again, he grabbed his large broadsword and strapped it to his back. It wouldn't be good against his prey but, if he came across another hunter, it could come in handy. His stomachs growled demanding to be fed again; the heroni was already digested. He reached for the dried meat he kept in reserve. He grabbed a few dried slices of meat and wolfed it down quickly. He truly hated this desperate existence, living alone with no reason to get up except to continue his survival. Before, when he was living with his clan, he was coming to the age where he could have started searching for a mate and really start a life for himself, but it had all been thrown away. Now he was living alone in a tiny hole barely big enough to be called a cave, doing nothing with his life but surviving.

No matter how he felt about his current existence, he wasn't about to stop living. He switched to infrared vision as the sun went down and stood in the entrance of the cave looking out, as the last of the harsh poisonous rays disappeared over the horizon, leaving the world to the oppressive, beautiful darkness.

 **K** insa was following behind the two massive Barabels, stalking slowly in the dark, murky forest. The darkness was so thick and oppressive she could hardly see the bodies of her guides. It felt as if there was a constant cloud of bugs swarming around her, following her every move. At first she'd attempted to keep them at bay but, no matter what she did, they clung to her clammy skin. Swatting the cloud of bugs she could feel but not see had also taken her focus; multiple times she had stumbled over the large roots jutting up from the soft dirt. She made a mental note to start bringing night vision goggles on her missions in the future. She could have used a glow rod to light the way, but they didn't want to alert Rogin to their presence before they found him. She was certain the Barabels were moving slower for her sake; their infrared eyes would have no problem navigating the thick forest.

They had been looking for hours and everyone knew they would have to turn back soon, but no one had mentioned it so far. As they trudged along, Kinsa couldn't calm down, her hand unconsciously drifting toward the hilt of her lightsaber. It had been so long since she'd been in a real combat situation and the very idea of it made her skin shiver with nervousness and, admittedly, excitement.

Only a few minutes more of the slow, miserable march and she sensed a feeling of evil begin spreading through the air. She kept silent about it, not sure if it was real and not wanting to give false hope. As they continued to walk forward, the Dark feeling she felt grew stronger, letting her know they were headed the right way. She drew but didn't ignite her saber; she didn't want the noise or the light to draw attention but she felt the need to be ready. The Barabels saw her ready her lightsaber and got the hint, pulling out their weapons as well. As the feeling continued to grow thicker, she sped up and took lead of the group. Before she made it far, the black-scaled Durgin grabbed her shoulder and spun Kinsa around, motioning silently at his eyes. Kinsa understood the gesture; she was a Twi'lek and her eyes weren't accustomed to the dark like the Barabels with their dual purpose eyes. She nodded and let him retake the lead. They, however, could not feel the pull of the Force, so, in hushed whispers, she directed the Barabels as they scanned the trees. The Darkness she felt grew more oppressive and she suddenly tripped, falling forward and landing on a hard lump protruding from the ground. As she pushed herself back to her feet, she ignited her lightsaber in a slight panic, casting a pale yellow light over the large, twisted grey body. The Barabels quickly took out and snapped their glow rods, everyone immediately wished they hadn't.

Kinsa counted seven bodies strewn about, all battered and broken. Anger began to claw at her heart, but Kinsa held it at bay with calm, reciting the Jedi code under her breath. Behind the bodies, there was a large cave opening. She was about to continue into the hollow but, as she turned to look for her companions, she saw the Boondal on his knees in front of the red bodies. His chin was pointed to the sky and his fingers covered his eyes as he whispered under his breath too softly to hear. The Endor stood, his head bent slightly, paying some respect for the dead but clearly not really caring; after all, it wasn't his tribe. Kinsa stood patiently contemplating their next move as the Barabel gave peace to his brothers.

 **C** ognus smiled as she approached her Y-class, long-ranged personal cruiser. It was a dark silver, sleek, T-shaped vessel. Since buying it she'd had it heavily modified to fit her purposes. She had stripped away most of the armor to make it even more lightweight and put in stronger thrusters to give it more maneuverability. She'd added extra weapons and put in the best hyperdrive generator and ion engine money could buy.

As much as she loved her ship, which she had dubbed Raven, she knew that it would stand out and attract unwanted attention on a poor world like Alkaroe. She instead stepped into her larger less assuming transport ship. It was an old republic shuttle ship that had been used to bring a low level government employee from planet to planet. The outside of the ship was battered and rusty; it didn't look like it would still be flying by the end of the year. Despite its worn look, it was also heavily modified, just not in a way that could be seen by the untrained eye. She had installed a newer hyperdrive generator, though it wasn't as good as the Raven's; this ship wasn't meant for speed. Also, unlike the Raven, she had added more armour, though the new plating could only be seen from the inside. The extra guns she'd installed were held inside the ship and could only be seen when they were activated. While the raven could fly circles around any ship, striking and fleeing before they even knew what hit them, this beast could go toe-to-toe with a medium sized battle cruiser. If her maps and estimations were correct she should be able to get to Alkaroe in three or four days at the most, as long as she didn't come across any trouble.

 **B** arabels didn't often smile, and Rogin couldn't remember the last time he'd had a reason to, but he certainly had one now. This had been his most successful hunt since he'd left his home. He had needed to construct a makeshift raft from a dead tree and thick vines that he pulled along behind him in order to fit the five animals he had caught. This amount of food would last him weeks. He had spent longer than he planned out of his cave; every time he was about to turn in he saw another opportunity. The first drizzles of the coming rain had just started to fall, but he was close enough to his cave now to get back even in a full-blown storm.

His thoughts, which had been drifting toward cooking and preserving the meat, were suddenly infiltrated by a sharp alarm warning him of danger. He quietly let the sled drop, careful not to make any sounds, and stalked forward carefully. He could see the mouth of his cave now and felt a sickness rising in the pit of his chest; Jedi. Rogin growled involuntarily and drew his sword from his back, letting the tip drag along the ground as he walked. He knew sound didn't matter at this point, figuring, if he could feel the intruder, the Jedi would already know he was coming.

 **A** fter lying in wait for hours, Kinsa finally picked up the signature of another Force user. She could tell that the power emanating from the unseen man, while strong, was wild and unrefined; this fight would end quickly.

 **R** ogin abandoned his slow walk and sprinted into his cave, his sword hanging low in one hand; screaming with rage as he entered. He saw the three invaders grouped together in his cave, two Barabels at the back and one-warm blooded female in the front. She was an alien whose species he didn't recognize. She was small and shapely and looked to be about one meter and seventy or eighty centimeters tall, and couldn't weigh more than fifty-seven kilograms. She had two long tendrils that protruded from the back of her head and hung behind her like two thick braids of hair. She was holding a sword with a thin blade that shone bright white with heat in his infrared vision. From the stories told around campfires, he recognized this as the near mythical lightsaber, the weapon of both Sith and Jedi.

Seeing him, the Barabels re-drew their weapons as well. One had a large broadsword similar to his and the other fumbled in an attempt to pull a large blaster rifle from his back, struggling because of the low ceiling in Rogin's small cave. Before they could attack, Rogin swept his free hand across, gathering the Force into a broad, invisible wall aimed to push the attackers away. As the Jedi brought her hand up to defend against his basic attack, the Barabels were lifted off their feet and crashed into the rock wall, collapsing in a heap, both of them unconscious. He immediately followed his attack up by swinging his sword in an upward arc toward the alien who had blocked his Force push.

The female Jedi quickly brought her block up under her chin, but Rogin knew the defence was rushed and at a bad angle. The weight behind his attack would force the smaller woman to take a step back, and her small sword would be blown away, leaving her exposed. This would open her up to a diagonal downward strike that she couldn't hope to stop. Only none of that happened.

As he swung his sword up, instead of meeting and breaking through the Jedi's defences, his sword flew effortlessly past her blade. He was so surprised that the hilt of his sword almost flew out of his grasp as his arm swung up. He quickly jumped back, trying to give himself room to figure out what happened. He heard a sharp clang and looked down to see the top half of his blade clatter to the ground. He pushed away his sadness at losing his most important possession; he didn't have time for sentimentality. He didn't know how, but the glowing lightsaber had cut through his sword, rendering it useless.

Before the Jedi intruder could push her sudden advantage, Rogin gripped the hilt and threw the remaining half of his sword at her face. It flew end over end at her, but she easily deflected it to the side with the Force. Though she had dealt with that easily enough, Rogin knew she was unprepared for the follow-up attack.

 **A** s soon as the hilt left his hands, the amazingly gigantic Barabel flew forward and tackled her to the ground, where Kinsa's lightsaber and greater command over the Force would be less of an advantage. His shoulder drove into her stomach and she gasped as the air was forced from her lungs. Kinsa could hardly move or breathe with the gigantic weight pressing down on her. The back of her head slammed hard onto the craggy floor, stabbing into her soft Lekku, the long protrusions that contained parts of her brain. Blinding pain filled her head, blocking out all other sensations outside of the short spasm of agony. As quickly as it had come, the burning warning disappeared, allowing her to come back to existence. The monstrous man sat on her chest and rained punches down on her; she didn't even know how many had hit before now. She grunted and tried to bring her arms up to protect her face, but found that the Barabel had somehow managed to pin them at her side underneath him. Kinsa started moving from side to side, trying to avoid the beast's rock hard fists and possibly squirm out from under him. Either by simple luck or some Force occurrence, no matter how much she moved he always seemed to strike her square in the face. After the paralyzing torment of having her head tails bruised, even the forceful punches of this monster seemed dull.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the two Barabel guides intertwined in an unconscious heap; they clearly wouldn't be any help. Her thoughts were ripped away when a particularly sharp punch slammed into her forehead, breaking the skin. If she weren't still conscious, she would have sworn it had dented her skull. This was starting to feel less dull.

 **H** is scaled fists drove again and again into the Jedi's soft face, cutting through her skin. He felt his fists breaking her teeth and he saw her mouth filling up with blood. Rogin slammed into her eye and a small cut opened up. He punched in the same spot again and became a deep laceration above the Jedi's left eye. She let out a brutal scream and, before he could revel in her suffering, Rogin suddenly felt himself being lifted up off the Jedi. For a short moment, he thought one of the two men he'd knocked unconscious had awakened but he quickly realized the pressure was coming from under him, not above him. He flew up for a moment and, before he could understand what was going on, his ascendance was halted. The back of his head slammed into a long thin stalactite hanging from the ceiling. If not for his natural armor-like scales, the stalactite would have pierced through his head and killed him instantly. As it was, the sharp stalactite snapped and Rogin lost consciousness.

 **K** insa had almost passed out from the pain and was now wiping the blood from her eyes, trying to clear her vision. She looked up with still blurry vision to see a large black form racing down toward her. Before he smashed into her she held up her hands and slowed the man's descent to a stop. She held him there for a moment, studying the man's face only a foot above her. His face seemed so much more peaceful at rest in comparison to the hungry rage that had been painted across his features earlier. To her untrained eyes, he looked exactly the same as any other Barabel, a large, wide nose leading to a thin, almost invisible bridge. A thick, prominent ridge over his eyes was, like the rest of him, devoid of any hair. Scales, larger than the ones on the rest of his body, covered his bald head. Done looking over him, she moved the giant body to the side and let him drop softly to the floor.

Kinsa slowly sat up, her head pounding, and the gravity causing blood to once again pour from the fresh gash and drip into her eyes. She tasted blood in her mouth and spat, a couple of her sharp teeth coming out along with a stream of blood. With her one eye closed, she looked around the cave and saw her still unconscious companions. She tried to stand up, but felt a sharp stabbing in her lower chest as she moved. She pressed her fingers softly against her rib cage and knew she had at least two broken ribs. She could tell by the pain she felt and the blood that had filtered into her mouth that her nose was broken. She had been correct in saying that the fight would be over quickly, but it had been far messier than she had anticipated.

"We're not going to kill him," Kinsa said for what felt like the dozenth time, accentuating her point by slamming her palm down on the stone table.

The three men stopped their argument and glared at her. Kinsa had always heard that Barabels held the opinions of a Jedi in the highest respect, a holdover from an ancient time when a group of Jedi had crash-landed on the planet and had ended up settling the Barabel War, a terrible conflict that had threatened to engulf the entire planet. It seemed to her that this must be old and long-forgotten tradition.

"It's none of your business and none of your concern, Jwir," Marg spat at her, using the Barabel word for outsider or, depending on the translation, unclean.

"You are the one who has no right to an opinion here," Durgin yelled, towering threateningly over the smaller man. "He is not your tribe and he did not abandon your people."

"Was of your tribe, you mean. As you said, he abandoned your people, thus becoming an outcast and leaving your influence. He was found in my forest, he was captured in my forest and the last person he killed was one of my people. It is our right to punish the derelict. When you exiled the worm, you lost all rights."

"Then by that the greys would have equal right to execute the animal. Has he not also had his people butchered by the Blight of Barabel?" Drugin continued, his voice steadily mounting.

Kinsa saw Marg slowly reach for the large knife he kept strapped to his side as Drugin continued to press into him.

Orin, as always, kept silent, though he had stood from his seat. Kinsa assumed he was getting ready to either fight or run in case something started. It was quite clear to her that they had once again gone back to ignoring her, truly believing that, because she wasn't a Barabel, she shouldn't have any say in his fate. Not that his fate was up for debate. No matter who he went to this Rogin would end up dead; they were simply fighting over who got to do the deed. As a Jedi, there was no way she would allow the bound and currently unconscious prisoner to be executed, no matter what he had done. She loathed the idea of starting a fight over this, but she thought she had another idea of how to end the argument.

"Combat!" She called out, breaking the angry glares between Marg and Drugin and causing them to look at her curiously. "I claim control of the prisoner by right of combat. It was I who defeated him. I who took the bruises to capture him." She gestured with her eyes to her various bandages and cuts. "I subdued the man and I shall decide what becomes of him, no one else."

She finished her short speech off with an angry, daring look as she placed her hand suggestively on her lightsaber. While she didn't actually plan on using the weapon, she needed to show that she wasn't afraid to defend her claim.

She was met with complete silence, Orin staring at her with a measure of surprise and respect, while the other two only faced her with shocked rage. By their still faces and twitching fingers, she could tell they were both waiting for the other to issue a challenge. No doubt they planned to challenge whoever the winner once they were tired and bruised. To be honest, Kinsa, tired and injured as she was, wasn't even sure if she could take on one of the men, never mind two, at least not without just killing them, which would defeat the purpose.

Eventually, the stalemate went on long enough and Kinsa relaxed her pose, believing it had been decided. She bowed low to the men, still staring at her angrily, and left the council room, making the long trek to where they had kept the prisoner.

As she walked, she considered what she would do with the man now that she had control over his future. The logical choice would be to simply bring him back to Coruscant and report him to the Jedi council. They would congratulate her and he would most likely be questioned for a short time before he was dropped onto one of the many prison worlds. Though she knew this was what she should do with him, her mind kept coming up with other ideas.


	3. Chapter 3

**Reviews/questions/critiques always welcome**

 **3**

 **R** ogin smelt blood. He could see nothing but, even in his semi-conscious state, he could practically taste the earthy, metallic scent. He breathed in deeply and the distinct smell jolted him fully into consciousness. He realized his eyes were covered and he switched to infrared sight to see outside the covering over his eyes. He saw nothing in front of him but an empty, room-temperature, wooden chair. He tried to look around, but felt a stabbing pain in the back of his neck as soon as he turned his head. He relaxed his neck and looked forward but, now that he was aware of the pain, it refused to stop throbbing.

He could now feel the sticky liquid crawling slowly down his neck and realized the blood he smelled was his own. He reached up to feel the wound, but found he couldn't move his arm. When he looked down, he saw that his arms were tied to the chair. He tried moving his legs, but found them unsurprisingly tied as well. He flexed his four appendages at once, trying to rip out of his bonds, but stopped quickly once he realized how futile it was; there was no point wasting his strength. Without even trying, he knew the Force couldn't help him here; he was unable to use the Force to accomplish small, pinpoint tasks. All he had mastered was a broad push that wouldn't do anything for him here.

The gears working in his mind ground to a sudden halt; he thought he heard someone walking. He held his breath and strained to listen, but still the Jedi's presence reached him before her soft footsteps. Nauseating anger swept over him like a wave, washing away his pain and all other distractions. An unintelligible voice coming from within him urged him to kill the approaching Jedi, but he was not a stupid man. He knew that the only advantage he had over the Jedi strength, was irrelevant while he was tied up like this. Even if he could escape the chair, Rogin admitted to himself that this fight would most definitely end the same as their last.

This logic brought him calm, and he attempted to push away his remaining rage; he needed a clear head to get himself out of this.

"You struggle with your anger; that is a struggle all of us can relate to" The Jedi spoke suddenly, cutting through Rogin's thoughts. "It shows promise that you're not simply giving into it."

The Jedi walked so she stood in front of Rogin. Rogin could see her warm yellow-orange heat signature. He could even make out the deep cut above her eye, hot with exposed blood.

"I wonder if you will overcome your anger, Rogin, or if you'll simply succumb to it?

"You have an advantage over me," Rogin croaked, his dry throat cracking, "I only know you as a Jedi."

Rogin could see the Jedi's smile through the bag. "I am Jedi Knight Kinsa Una, but you can call me Kinsa," she explained, bowing slightly "I am your captor and I will be your judge."

Rogin chuckled painfully. "As it should be, the one who defeats me in combat rules over my fate; so what will you choose, Jedi?"

"The Jedi council will never accept you as a Padawan; you're too old. I wonder how someone of your with your sensitivity was passed over when you were young. And I'm not sure someone of your power and past can be released into society without supervision." Kinsa spoke slowly as if she was working something out in her head.

"So, prison then? Or death; do Jedi execute bound, helpless men? Even ones with my past?"

"We most certainly do not, and so we have two options. One, you are transported to Durin, a prison world where ships never land, or take off. New prisoners are dropped from an orbiting space station with a sky hook. It has transformed into a harsh society where the strong rule and live well, and the weak serve or die. I'm sure you would do well there."

"And the second option?" Rogin asked. "As promising as that one sounds."

"You come travel with me and you become my apprentice."

Rogin spat out a laugh that quickly turned into a painful, hacking cough.

"Did you not say I'm too old to be trained?" he asked after he had recovered from his cough.

"Officially, yes you are, but I could train you in secret. I'm not often back on Coruscant and you could travel with me across the Galaxy, observing me and training while I complete my missions. You would never be allowed to be a true Jedi but, once I felt you were ready, you would be let go to follow your own path. My own Master, Master Rilth Trence, found me when I was 14, well past the normally accepted age, but he saw potential in me. It was a turbulent time for the Jedi and he was allowed to train me. If I was only a few years younger than you when I was found, and I see no reason you shouldn't be given a chance."

"Well I'm sure you weren't a murderer when he found you." Rogin responded grimly

"Perhaps not, but I assure you I was not using my gift for good. I have been informed of the circumstances surrounding your situation and I fully believe that there can be redemption for all."

With that, the Jedi pulled his hood off and Rogin switched to normal sight. He was able to truly look at her for the first time.

She looked even smaller without the visible heat radiating off her skin. Her skin had a light yellow hue and her light blue eyes were soft and inviting. Her two thick tentacles were the same colour as the rest of her. They protruded from the back of her head and hung down almost reaching to her waist. She wore a light brown robe, the same Rogin had seen other Jedi wearing, with her hood flipped down. There was a bright golden emblem that Rogin didn't recognize on the upper right of her robe. Her upper lip was split and badly swollen. The left side of her face where her jaw line met her neck was also puffed up. Her cheekbone, just under her right eye, seemed slightly concaved, and her entire face was discoloured. The worst injury was the large gash above her left eye, which looked much larger now than it had when viewed in infrared because of the cool temperature of dried blood. Her eye was even bloodshot, as if the blood from the cut was seeping, unseen, from the inside into her eye.

Rogin felt no guilt or remorse looking upon the woman he had disfigured; the Jedi had invaded his home and Rogin had responded in kind. In Barabel culture, the women grew as big as the men and fought in the wars with them. Just because they took care of the children instead of hunting didn't mean they were any less tough and, as such, he held no qualms about fighting a woman.

Rogin swallowed as he considered the words, trying to soothe his painfully dry throat, but he didn't have enough saliva. Neither option seemed appealing, but he knew he could never travel with a Jedi. Even having one in his presence made him feel ill; he knew he could never be one himself. However, he was certain there would be no escape from a prison world. If he was patient and played along, earning her trust enough to grant some freedom, he may be able to escape from the Jedi.

"Well, that's an easy choice, isn't it? So, do I start calling you Master?"

Kinsa smiled and, faster than Rogin could see, the Jedi's hilt was in her hands. With a quick snap-hiss, a yellow blade appeared. Rogin stiffened and panicked; how could the Jedi know? He had heard myths as a boy that Jedi could read minds, but he had never believed it, and now he was afraid he was going to die because of it.

The blade flickered around him, but Rogin felt no pain. He looked down and released a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He raised his now freed hands and started to stand up. Before he could fully stand up his legs wobbled and gave out. He put his hands down to catch his fall but he instinctively used the Force to keep himself up. He found his legs and stood up straight, facing his new "Master".

Kinsa's new apprentice bent his head stiffly, giving what a generous man might call a bow. Kinsa opened her mouth to say something but then shut it; she remembered her arrogance as a Padawan. This would be a long road.

"So what's next?" Rogin rasped, sounding parched.

"Well, first you drink this," Kinsa commanded, throwing a metal canteen at him.

Rogin opened the canteen and drank deeply; there was a flash of pain as his dried throat resisted the water for a millisecond before succumbing to the cool, refreshing wave. As soon as the water reached his stomachs they growled with anger. Before drinking the water, he'd had no idea how hungry he was. His stomachs continued to grumble, demanding to be fed.

"Any food to go with this?" Rogin asked, wiping the water from the corner of his mouth.

"I have some food rations," Kinsa replied, pulling two pouches from one of the many pockets on her belt. She tossed them to him and turned to leave. "Eat while you walk; we should leave quickly."

Rogin studied the small pouches with disdain.

"Uh Master, I'm not sure you know much about Barabels. We have two stomachs; these won't even fill one"

The Jedi kept walking. "You'd be surprised," she remarked without looking back

Rogin grunted and quickly followed his new Master out the door. He looked down and tore at the first silver package, exposing a light brown, semi-hard bar. He took a bite and was surprised by the taste, or lack thereof.

"Blech, what is this? It tastes like…like nothing."

"It's military rations, everything you need and nothing you don't, including taste. You'd better get used to it."

Rogin said nothing, preferring to use his mouth to consume the tasteless nutrition. His stomachs settled down and filled up before he had even gotten halfway through the second bar. He was amazed that such a small meal could fill him. He shoved the last half down his into his mouth and washed it down with the rest of his water; he wasn't sure when he would eat again. He continued following after the Jedi, who was setting a surprisingly fast pace for a being with such short legs.

He was still feeling ill from the sickening feeling that was constant when he was in the presence of the Jedi. She was facing forward and Rogin realized that there was no way she could see him. He wondered if the Jedi had some way of knowing where he was or if she was just foolishly trustful. Rogin could feel the general location of the Jedi but he wondered if she could feel a more pinpoint location, because of her training. Rogin figured there must be some way the Jedi knew he was there and thought it best not to test it. No point giving her another reason not to trust him.

Lost in thought, he didn't realize how close they were to the spaceport until they had arrived; she must have been holding him close to it. He had only been to the spaceport once before, to meet a member of his tribe who had gone off-world and was returning. It was a very small spaceport; Barab 1 had almost no outside contact, incoming or outgoing. In fact, the only ships you could usually see in the tiny spaceport was the slave ships.

Barabel's, with their large build and natural armor, were extremely sought after in the gladiator pits. At first, the slavers had only been able to pick up one or two Barabel's a year, but then a new law had been put into place to deal with inter-tribal debts. When one Barabel owed another of the same tribe money but couldn't pay his debts, he had two options. He could work for the man without pay until he paid it off, or he could let the man sell him to slavers to fight in the many gladiator pits around the Galaxy. If the man could win five fights, then he was set free and could return debt free to Barab 1. The law also stated that the Barabel to whom the debt was owed could pay the man as much or as little as he wanted for his work. Because of this, most people chose to fight for their freedom rather than work for practically nothing for possibly their entire life.

In fact, there was a long line of men with their hands tied and bags on their head, being led by a group of rough-looking humans onto an old black troop ship with the marking scraped off. Rogin saw three Barabels break odd, two reds and one large black heading towards the bathroom with one of the slavers. A plan immediately flew into Rogin's mind. He had seen the acceptance and naiveté in the Jedi's eyes, he knew this would work.

"Hey Master, would you mind if I went to the bathroom before we head on? Your ship is probably small and I gotta assume the bathroom would be cramped, especially for a guy my size."

Kinsa kept walking "It's not that small, Come on, we have to be going; you'll be fine."

Rogin stopped walking. "You may be my Master now, but you're not my parent; I go to the bathroom when I want to. You can come in and hold my hand if you insist, but I gotta go."

Kinsa sighed and turned around "I know it's hard having someone that orders you around after being a free man, but you're going to have to start listening. I was a Padawan once too; I remember feeling angry when I was told to do things I didn't feel I had to. So I acted out over nothing, but you must learn to accept my decisions."

"Listen Master, this isn't about me being defiant; it's just about me not wanting to stink up your whole ship. It's a small ship, and I have two stomachs."

"Yeah okay, "she told him, turning back around." "But, try and be quick about it."

Rogin walked briskly toward the bathrooms; that had been quite a bit harder than he expected.

 **K** insa sat silently on her ship, waiting for her new Padawan and nursing the wounds that he had given her. It had been a long time since she'd been injured like this; it brought her back to her time in the war and her life before the Jedi. As she tightened the bindings around her torso and gave herself another Kolto shot to speed up the healing, she felt a bit happy. Even though it hurt, a lot, it felt good to have a physical manifestation of the work she was doing. She was always training and it felt like it had been forever since she'd done anything with it.

As she looked in the mirror, hoping the deep cut above her eye didn't scar, she questioned her choices concerning the young Barabel. Rogin had such a strong connection to the Force that Kinsa had thought it would be foolish to just abandon him on a prison world and waste all that potential. Now that she was alone, however, she feared what would happen if someone so strong fell away from the Light side. He would make a dangerous Dark Jedi. Kinsa's thoughts drifted, as they often did, to her late Master. Master Rilth had fought against, and died to the last of the Sith Lords on Russan. It was because of his sacrifice along with the oblation of hundreds of other Jedi that the Sith had finally been purged from the Galaxy forever. Kinsa could not live with herself if he disrespected his master's memory by creating a new follower of the Dark side.

Thinking of her former Master always made Kinsa feel agitated. She cleared her mind and meditated, hoping the Force would give her answers she needed about her Padawan. She turned off all the instruments on his ship, powering it down completely, and sat in the silence. She reached out to the Force, as she had been trained to do and as she had done thousands of times. However, as soon as she felt herself spreading out, reaching for the Force, she hit a wall. Her eyes snapped open and she drew in a deep breath. Never before had she felt something blocking her connection in that way. It was as if the Force itself was pushing her away, like the it was trying to hide her from itself from her. The more she thought about it the more she felt that the Force was clouding her. Whatever was going to happen, good or bad, was the will of the Force; Kinsa took some small comfort in that.

 **R** ogin entered the bathroom and quickly made his plan. The human slaver was just in front of him, keeping watch by the door. He stood like a young man but, from behind, looked much older. He had long, wispy, white hair hanging down to his shoulders, but had a huge bald spot in the middle of his head. His skin was so thin Rogin could see his veins as he snuck up behind him. He had long, bony fingers that were resting comfortably on the blaster pistols strapped to his belt. He was so thin, his loose, stretchy skin hanging off his bones, that Rogin was surprised he'd gotten this job, handling the massive prisoners.

The two red Barabels were in the stalls and the one black was standing at the urinal. Rogin quickly got close behind the slaver and swung his elbow out, twisting to the side and aiming for his temple. The sharp point of his elbow collided with the side of his head. The slaver started to drop, and Rogin grabbed him and silently guided his body to the ground. Rogin thought about killing the man whose entire job was controlling his people but seeing as he was about to meet his friends, Rogin thought that may not be the best idea. Next, Rogin moved forward to the black Barabel, just as he was turning away from the urinal. The man's eyes widened in surprise but, before he could say anything, Rogin thrust his large meaty hand towards the man's throat, fingers outstretched and claws extended. Whatever words the man was going to say turned into a hacking cough and a gasping for air. Rogin drove his knee sharply into the man's stomach, knocking the little air he had managed to suck in back out. As the man doubled over in pain, Rogin grabbed him into a headlock with one arm and used his elbow to smash the base of the man's neck. He dropped to the ground with a thud. He wouldn't kill this man either; he couldn't handle killing another Endor. Rogin chuckled softly as he looked down at the body of his brethren; this man wouldn't have lasted five fights. Rogin had probably just saved his life.

Rogin moved the man to the empty stall and quickly took off the unconscious man's pants and shirt and swapped them for his own. The clothes were bright yellow and had the slave group's insignia on the back; even without the hood or the hand bindings the men had taken off, it would be clear he was a slave. He knew humans had an extremely hard time telling them apart; as long as they were the same colour Rogin knew he could pass.

He ran out of the bathroom and, once he was out, he made a show of appearing nervous and looking around frantically as he ran. People noticed almost instantly and the slavers ran after him, shouting. He ran slowly, allowing them to easily catch up to him. He felt a kick at the back of his leg and he pitched forward, using his hands to break his fall. He had to concentrate to hold himself back as the men roughly grabbed him and tied his hands behind his back. He caught a few punches and hard shoves, but he knew the slavers wouldn't do any serious damage; they wouldn't want to harm their property, since they got paid for every fight he won. The men put a cloth hood on him and quickly brought him onto the ship.

"Stay there," growled one of the men, shoving him roughly onto a bench on the ship, surrounded by Barabels.

"It's just a quick jump to Alkaroe; we should be there in less than a day," another yelled to the lot of them. "We'll come back to feed you in a few hours; fight well and you can be back here in less than a week."

The door remained open for another minute before the two red Barabels were brought onto the ship. He could hear them grumbling about being pulled out of the bathroom. The old, creaking door started to swing shut, and he caught the men worrying about their unconscious friend and cursing "the big one".

The door clanged shut and he switched to infrared vision. In the cold metal ship all he could see were the blue bodies of cool reptilians.

 **R** ogin sat in silence, listening to the hushed conversations going on around him. They had all felt the ship drop out of hyperdrive and, now that they were closing in on the planet, everyone was nervous. They asked each other all sorts of questions about the fights. Would they have to fight each other? Or would it be against other species? Was it a going to be a bunch of one-on-one fights or one large group fight? Of course no-one knew the what would actually happen, but they tried to answer each other's questions all the same. Back and forth people asked things and then argued over the answer. Rogin kept silent; he wasn't nervous. He didn't know any more than the rest of them, he just knew it didn't matter. He knew he would walk into, and then out of, the pit five times. Then he would be free. What he didn't know, what made him nervous whenever he thought about it, was what he would do once he was free. His life had always been dictated solely by need. He needed to hunt to provide for his clan, he needed to survive in the jungle, he needed to escape the Jedi's grasp and now he needed to win five fights. Once that was done, he could do what he wanted; another thing he didn't know was what he wanted. He felt like he had been born in the wrong time. He'd been given this strange gift, one whose greatness demanded to be used, but he had nothing to do with it. Had he been born just a couple of decades ago, he could have been a Sith, could have been a warrior in the Brotherhood of Darkness. Of course, they all died at the hand of the Jedi, so perhaps being born then wasn't any better than now. Perhaps if he had just been born different, then he could have joined the Jedi Order when he was a child, trained and done something useful with his gift. But, instead, just being around one disturbed him. He wondered if there were others like him, beings who had been given these abilities but had nothing to do with it.

Before Rogin could start figuring it out, the hatch at the back of the ship opened and the hold grew brighter as the warmth of the sun came in. He heard the mechanical whirring as the ramp lowered and then the metallic clang as it hit the port. He turned towards it as he heard the footsteps on the ramp and turned to see multiple warm red bodies flooding into the hold. He wondered, not for the first time, why slavers bothered to put hoods on Barabels when they had infrared sight; perhaps they didn't know.

He was yanked up roughly by two sets of hands.

"This fer sucker punchin' me and tryin' to 'scape," he heard one of the men slur; either he was more injured than Rogin would have thought or he was drunk.

He felt a fist bounce off his stomach. There was a slight whimper as the tiny fist hit his scaly abdomen.

"That must have hurt," Rogin smirked with a condescending tone.

"We'll see how big 'n tough you are when you get inna the pits," the man retorted, cradling his hand to his chest. "When you die, I'll be watching, smiling."

They were led in single file off the ship and into a crowded spaceport. Rogin was immediately assaulted by the thousands of beings milling around him. Being from a backwater planet of cold-blooded people, the constant stream of warm bodies shocked him. The orangish-red people mixed with the bright florescent lights flashing from the tall buildings that shone through the night created an amazing rainbow of colours.

Almost more than the sights, the smells shocked him. So many smells, all hot. The warm, sweaty bodies, the unknown meats cooking on open grills, the greasy, oily fumes coming off the hot engines of idling ships. It all mingled together to create an oppressive smell he could only describe as hot.

They were pulled in a procession through the thick crowd of people. Bodies bumped into him from all sides and he had to breathe deeply and concentrate not to react. He had never been around so many people; it made him extremely uneasy. He felt feelings of fear and anger drifting from his fellow prisoners. Barab 1 was a sparsely-populated planet; when too many people gathered in one place tempers got high and there was fighting. That is why Barabels separated themselves into tribes and lived in small family clans.

After a few minutes of walking, they entered a room and their hoods were removed. It was dark and seemed to feel like the middle of the night, but Rogin's over-sensitive eyes could see clearly. They were in a large unfinished, unfurnished room with drab, washed-out orange walls and a plain cement floor. The heat of the city seemed to be slowly peeling the dull orange off the walls, revealing the grey cement beneath. Thick metal bars crisscrossed along the open windows, as if any of the massive Barabels could fit through the tiny squares cut into the cement. Besides the single door in the room was warped, badly cut wood and looked like it was about to break on its own. If any of them wanted to leave, that's the way they would be going.

The slavers walked around and untied their hands.

"You have six hours; there's food in these packs." The men heaved large bags off their backs and set them on the ground. "You can eat and rest, then it's time to fight. We've delivered you, so you're no longer our concern. You can try to escape if you want, but I wouldn't suggest it. Fight well." The slavers filtered out the door and the Barabels were left alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Critiques/reviews/questions always welcome**

 **4**

" **Y** es, Grand Master Liftling," said Kinsa with a nod, speaking to the small blue holograph of the leader of the Jedi Council. She was an older female Togruta, one of the most respected Jedi in the order. While Grand Master Liftling was not a Twi'lek like Kinsa, she also had head tails, though, instead of calling them Lekku, Togrutas referred to them as tchun-tchin . The only difference was that instead of two, Togrutas, including Grand Master Liftling, had three. She also had two large, hollow, cone-shaped protrusions rising from her head. Though it couldn't be seen in the blue of the hologram, Grand Master Liftling had rusty red skin, though parts of her face, around her eyes and her lips, were so white it looked like paint.

"It will be done," Kinsa promised the flickering blue image.

"Report back to me when it is," she replied, her stale voice dripping with disappointment and condescension.

The hologram flickered out and Kinsa was left alone in her ship.

She let out a yell of exasperation and hung her head, full of frustration and shame. She had ignored logic and, more importantly, the rules of the Jedi Council, all because she thought she knew what was best. Now, because of her foolish, selfish actions, a potentially dangerous man had escaped.

 **R** ogin sat in silence looking over the cool, barely-registering heat signature of sleeping Barabels. These men, he thought, had families and lives; they were fighting to be free so they could return to their life. Rogin had no idea why he was fighting. He had to do it to survive, but, truthfully, part of him felt that it didn't even matter if he survived. If the only reason for drawing this breath was just to insure he could draw a breath later, what was the point? Other species, when they first see Barabels, assume they are non- or semi-sentient because of their animal-like appearance. Rogin realized that he had been living like a non-sentient being ever since he had gone into exile: living off instinct, alone in the forest with no purpose but to keep breathing. He needed something more; now that he was away from the forest and the danger he saw it clearly. A man who lived for nothing bigger than himself was doing it uselessly. Other men had love, or they lived and died in war for their home or their convictions and beliefs. Rogin had none of this. He had no one he loved, no one who loved him, he no longer had a home and he held no convictions.

Thinking on this, the female Jedi flashed into his mind. Kinsa had something bigger than herself to live for; it may absolutely repulse Rogin, but at least it was something. Rogin knew very little about the Jedi order but he knew they fought for what they thought was the good of the Galaxy. He knew he could never be a Jedi; something inside him clashed against something within them. The adult Barabels never talked about the Jedi except to say how wise and good they were, the children, however, were enthralled by stories of their martial strength and mystical ways, hoping that one day they too could perform such amazing feats. When one child of a tribe heard a kernel of a story, it was immediately spread throughout the rest of the children, each retelling of the story becoming more fantastic and further from the truth. He thought back again to the story he heard as a child of a Brotherhood of Darkness, people who had knowledge of the Force and fought against the Jedi. They had all been killed in a great war on a distant planet. According to the stories he'd heard, they had been victims of a great explosion of the Force; it had been released by the Jedi to wipe them out once and for all.

Despite the stories, he couldn't imagine that all of them had perished in the mystical explosion; perhaps there were a few left. He knew without a doubt there had to be others like him - people who had the Force but had either not been found or had denied the Jedi.

Living among non-Force users his entire life, he had never thought of people who were stronger than him. Now though, after losing to the Jedi, he realized there must be people out there who were more powerful than himself. He thought if he could meet them he could grow and maybe do something useful with his life.

The blossoming thought was crushed when he realized that any people like him, people who had avoided the grasp of the Jedi, would also have little to no understanding of the Force. How, he wondered, did the first Force users learn to be as strong as the Jedi are, or as the Brotherhood of Darkness? They couldn't have had anyone to train them because they were the first.

In a flash of inspiration, he suddenly knew what he would do when he was free; he would re-start again the Brotherhood of Darkness. He would seek out and find other people like him, like-minded people with Force abilities. Together they could scour the Galaxy for knowledge about the Force. They would experiment and practice, writing down what worked and what didn't for future generations. After Rogin's death, they would continue growing in knowledge and size until they could once again rival the Jedi as their predecessors had. Perhaps, he thought, such a group already existed. If he wasn't the only non-Jedi Force user, there could be others who'd had this idea before him. Whether he ended up starting it or just joining an already existing army, he would be serving for a greater goal. He didn't think challenging the Jedi could happen in his lifetime but, that was perfect. This idea was bigger and more important than himself. He felt a warm feeling of contentment spread inside him as he finally let himself drift off to sleep; he knew now why he drew breath.

 **T** he door opened with a mechanical hiss and warm air entered the cockpit, mixing with and quickly overpowering the cold, stale air of her ship. The ship vibrated softly as the ramp of her ship extended out and connected with the dock. Cognus breathed deeply, letting the familiar smells fill her and bring her to the past for a moment. She reminisced about her past life as she walked down the steps onto the dock; all spaceports smelled the same.

Even though she hadn't taken her sleek, customized ship, she still drew the attention of the vendors around the docks. She'd hardly stepped off the metal docks onto the reddish-brown dirt before she was being called to by the many merchants, holding their wares high for her to see. She quickly flipped up the hood on her simple black cloak and used the Force to make herself less noticeable. It didn't truly make her less visible; that was a different ability that required much more attention. All this did was make people ignore her; she was still there but people did not perceive her unless they were looking for her. With two more steps, the calls from the merchants had ceased and she blended into throng of people. She knew from experience that the gladiator pits would be close to the port in an attempt to attract the bets of smugglers and shippers just staying long enough for their cargo to be loaded into their ships by the many rusted droids whizzing about the spaceport or the few organic workers grunting and sweating, trying to keep up. She walked quickly, following what seemed to be the largest stream of people, keeping her eyes out for the amphitheater. She preferred not to talk to others if it could be helped.

 **R** ogin awoke, jerking him from his nightmare. Barabels were not supposed to ever dream but he did. He always had; he used to tell his friends and family about his dreams, but they called him a liar enough times that he learned to keep them to himself. Even as a child, his dreams had been bad, full of sadness and evil, and they had only gotten worse with age.

He looked around the room; seeing the heat seeping in through the windows, he switched to normal sight to see the light filtering through them. He tried to guess the time but he truly had no idea. He wasn't used to being awake when it was light out and he didn't know the sun cycle of this planet.

Seeing that nothing was going to happen soon, he tried to get back to sleep, figuring he would need his rest for the fights. However, for some reason, he could not do so; something was keeping him awake. Suddenly, the door swung open slowly, clearly by someone trying not to make noise. The man walked in and Rogin somehow knew that it was the slaver he had knocked unconscious. Rogin kept his head back down and looked at the other side of the small room, waiting to see what would happen next. He closed his eyes and practiced an ability he'd developed only a few years ago. With his eyes squeezed shut and his infrared vision off, he tried to focus on what was going on around him. As he opened up his awareness, he could feel the man walking towards him. He couldn't actually see the man moving to him but he could tell he was coming. He felt the man raising his leg up, preparing to slam it into Rogin's face. Before the kick landed, Rogin reached up and grabbed the man's foot. He opened his eyes and twisted the man's foot to the right, forcing him off balance. As the man fell, Rogin jumped to his feet. The other Barabels started waking up from the noise. The slaver sprang to up, red-faced and sputtering.

"Slave, I should kill you for even daring to touch me. The only reason I won't is so I can make a heap o' make money off your death. Imma be laughing when I see you lyin' dead an' broken in the pit as I count all my credits."

The man looked even worse from the front. His splotchy, wrinkled skin hung in bags off his skull, pooling into folds. It truly seemed like this man had too much skin for his body, as if he used to be a much larger man but had lost a significant amount of fat, muscle and somehow even bone recently. His teeth, set in black gums, were stained yellow but Rogin was surprised to see they were all still there. Rogin knew very little about how humans were supposed to look but he knew that no species was supposed to be in this condition.

"We shall see," said Rogin matter-of-factly. "So, when do I fight? I'm looking forward to disappointing you."

"If you're so excited, you can be first," came a voice from the doorway.

Rogin turned to see three men he hadn't met before standing in the doorway. The one who spoke was a short, dark-skinned human flanked by two other humans of similar colour. One was taller and fatter; the other looked to Rogin identical to the first man.

"We're the Baloo brothers," the man said, walking towards him with an outstretched hand. "Our family owns the gladiatorial operation on this planet, and it's our job to escort you lot to your fights." He turned to face the slowly-waking crowd and gestured to the scrawny slaver. "This man here volunteered to help."

The larger man stepped forward. "As you heard, your friend here has already volunteered to go first but, for the rest of you, here's how it works. I already have your names from the ship's log and you'll be fighting in alphabetical order. You'll be fighting men from other planets in similar situations to yourselves. If you make it far enough, you will have to fight one of your own. Once your name is called, you will enter the pit assigned to you and fight to the death. There are no rounds or timeouts. Once the fight is done, you have five minutes to rest before your next challenger is brought in. If you survive five fights, then you'll be free to return home or receive a one-way ticket to any planet in the local system. Any questions?"

Looking around the room, Rogin could tell that lots of the Barabels had questions but were too nervous to ask.

"Perfect."

All three of the men turned and walked quickly out the door, and the Barabels scrambled to follow with Rogin moving in behind them. The slaver walked behind him with a smug smile painted on his face. They got out the door and the shining sun assaulted Rogin's eyes. He stumbled in a rush to hide his head from the sun. The slaver laughed and shoved him forward, causing him to bump into what he assumed was another Barabel. Even with his eyes closed, the burning lights seeped painfully into his unaccustomed eyes. He heard the slaver's cruel laughs behind him and he refused to give the man any satisfaction.

With his eyes shut, he looked around and, finding where it seemed brightest, and opened his eyes wide. The light pierced through his eyes and it felt like they were being melted away, but he kept on staring, forcing his nocturnal eyes to adjust to the light. Streams of unintentional tears leaked from his burning eyes, but he refused to look away from the terrible red sun, he knew he would need his full vision in the fight. He continued staring at the sun until his vision began returning. His sight was still fuzzy and everything felt over-exposed. He saw the other Barabels struggling with the light. They were covering their eyes with their hands and bumping into each other as they stumbled forward. Rogin pushed them to the side and walked to the front just behind the three men, who had not slowed down. The short one who had spoken first looked back with a cruel smile but, seeing Rogin walking in stride with them the look on his face became one of mild surprise.

Rogin continued walking for a few minutes, the other Barabels eventually recovering and catching up. Soon he heard yelling and cheering and they came upon the gladiatorial arena.

They stood at the top of a long narrow stairway leading to a flat floor with a dozen large, man-made holes. The stairway was a part of a large circular, roofless coliseum. Benches packed with people were set up in rows all along the sloping walls of the arena. Many of the beings were species Rogin didn't recognize. Most were holding some kind of binoculars so they could see the long way down to the floor where the fighting would take place. As they walked down, the people to their right and left yelled in their faces, cheering them on or trying to frighten them; Rogin couldn't tell. The whole arena was so large that Rogin couldn't see the crowd on the other side; all he could see was a mix of shapes and colours. Rogin turned to the sandy floor to see what the crowd was so excited about and could just make out two figures fighting in one of the many pits.

The large Barabels were forced to walk single file down the stairway. Rogin continued looking around the arena and saw that there were four other stairways like this one in the arena. To the stairway to his left he could see a group of people walking down the stairway.

When they got to the bottom, they were told to sit on a long worn bench. They all sat in silence with the cheering of the crowd and the comment of the announcers washing over them. Suddenly, the already noisy crowd exploded with groans of disappointment and cheers of elation; apparently, that fight had ended. Eventually the crowd calmed down and the voice came blasting through speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen of all species, you are in for a treat today! We have four of the best fighters in the Galaxy for your pleasure. Wookiees, strong and ferocious with long, muscular limbs. Barabels, each one over two meters tall, covered in thick scales, and watch out for that tail. Zabraks, quick and strong, almost as dangerous without a weapon as with one. Last, but definitely not least, WAMPAS, the gigantic semi-sentient snow beasts from the unforgiving ice planet Hoth. They fight with ferocious instinct, using no weapon besides their own bodies."

"You're up kid," said the tall dark-skinned man slapping him on the shoulder. "Good luck, give 'em a show."

"And make me some money," whispered the slaver as Rogin walked by.

"Okay everybody," the theatrical voice continued, coming from all directions at once. "For your enjoyment, we have two groups of fighters at once, so if one slows down feel free to watch another. Your first fighters will be in the dangerous spike pit, lined on all sides with two-foot-long, razor-sharp spikes carved from the bones of a Rancor. Your other opponents will be fighting in the never-ending pit, sporting a large hole in the middle that reaches down to the middle of the planet. In the spike pit, we have one of the ferocious jungle warriors from Kashyyyk against an armored giant from the dark planet Barab 1. In the never-ending pit, we have the frozen monsters of the ice planet Hoth against the vicious, tattooed warriors from the harsh planet Iridonia."

Two large spotlights shone on two of the pits, both about twelve meters across and three meters deep. Another spotlight shone on a gigantic weapons rack in the middle of the arena.

"Combatants, choose your, weapons!" The crowd cheered wildly as the four men walked towards the middle of the arena. As he neared the weapons, Rogin saw a large hairy man he assumed was a Wookiee. He had never seen one before but he knew what a Zabrak looked like, so he knew this shaggy man must be his opponent. They reached the rack at the same time. Rogin turned to the other man.

He was amazed at the staggering mass of the man in front of him. He was easily as tall as Rogin and with his thick, shaggy hair he seemed to be even taller. The monstrous man turned and stared at him, eye to eye, something Rogin wasn't used to. Rogin nodded his head at him.

"Good luck," he blurted out, not knowing what to say to this man he was about to fight.

In response, the Wookiee simply grunted and yanked a giant war hammer from the rack. Rogin scoffed and looked over the large array of weapons. He chose a large broadsword with a wide blade. He pulled it off the rack and swung it around, feeling the weight. He could tell that it wasn't very well-made; it felt like it had been shoved and poorly welded together rather than made as one sturdy piece. Despite this, he could see the edge was brilliantly sharp, something Rogin imagined was of upmost importance to the organizers of these fights. The sword was a little bit lighter than his old blade, but it would do fine.

Having chosen his weapon, he turned from the weapon's rack towards the pit where he would be fighting. He saw the Wookiee stepping onto a platform that would lower him into the pit. Rogin got a running start and launched himself into the pit, flying past the spikes and landing in the sand with a quick roll. The Wookiee looked down from the lowering platform and growled. He stood at the edge of the platform and jumped the last meter into the pit about a foot from Rogin. They stared at each other almost eye-to-eye for a few moments before walking backwards to their respective sides of the pit.

"Woah, woah, woah! Would you look at the hostility; this one is sure to be a ferocious fight. Looks like the combatants are ready, but are you ready?" he questioned the crowd.

The stands erupted into a screaming frenzy. Rogin found it strange that so many people would watch two people fighting, and that they were getting this worked up about it.

"Fight!"

Rogin blocked out the screaming of the crowd and the announcer's blaring voice, focusing fully on the Wookiee. The wooly man swung his hammer in a show of strength, back and forth, finishing by smashing it to the ground, sending tremors through the hard packed sand.

Seeing the man's clear arrogance Rogin, smirked and motioned with his hand for the man to come. Turning his back on him, he lowered his sword and let it rest on the sand. He reached out of himself and felt the confused hesitation from the man turn to insulted rage. He could practically see the man start running towards him, holding his hammer high, posed to strike. Even if he didn't have the Force, the massive, bounding steps of the Wookiee let Rogin know where he was. When Rogin sensed the man was about four meters away, he spun, dragging the tip of his sword along the dirt. As he spun the sword gained momentum, which he used to raise his sword up and before releasing it underhand. It flew up, flipping end over end. It reached the sprinting man, slicing into his stomach and embedding into his chest. A look of shock came over the man's furry face, and he immediately dropped his war hammer. He stopped running, but his momentum continued to propel him forward towards Rogin. Before he crashed into him, Rogin stepped to the side and let the man move past him and fall to the floor, sending up a cloud of sand as he landed with a thud. Rogin placed his foot on the man's shoulder and rolled the man onto his back. He crouched down and grabbed the hilt of his sword.

"Bad luck," he whispered to the dead man with a sharp hiss. He yanked his blade out of his chest and cleaned the blood off. Rogin looked around at the crowd and sat down, waiting for his next challenger.

 **C** ognus smiled beneath her cowl. She had felt the gladiator when he had used the Force to determine the Wookiee's location. She also admired his dangerous approach to the fight. Cognus knew it would be four more fights until the man gained his freedom, she was extremely interested in watching the rest of them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Questions/reviews/critiques always welcome.**

 **5**

 **R** ogin sat in the pit for a few minutes, ignoring the crowd, waiting in silence. The platform that had lowered the Wookiee dropped down now, carrying a man and a large, white beast at least two-and-a-half meters tall, covered in chains. The man ushered the beast off the platform and dragged the Wookiee's body and weapon onto the platform. He produced a large key and unlocked the chains entangling the monster, then rushed back onto the platform. The towering white creature growled and lifted his arms, shrugging the chains off so they fell in a clump at his feet. Rogin stood up, holding his sword low and bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to warm his muscles back up. The icy beast looked so out-of-place among the reddish, orange planet and its supremely warm climate.

The Wampa let loose a terrible roar and charged with his arms outstretched. The white giant had charged so quickly, without analyzing his opponent for even a second, that Rogin wasn't ready for it. He backed up quickly, trying to figure out his plan, until he felt the spikes at his back. The Wampa closed in on him, moving faster than he would have thought possible for such a large animal. Rogin dove to the left quickly, dropping his sword in the process. He realized he was rolling too fast and tried to stop himself, but still hit the spikes protruding from the wall. His thick armor protected him and he turned to see the beast running towards him yet again. This time, Rogin dove forward, rushing past the lumbering Wampa and picking up his sword. He got to one knee and turned to face the shaggy white beast. He swung towards the Wampa, still facing away from him, and the tip of his new sword sliced into the back of the Wampa's legs. The beast howled and turned, swinging his fist down to crush Rogin. Still on one knee Rogin, pushed off with his free hand and rolled backwards out of the way, just as the fist slammed into the ground.

Rogin stood up and moved to the middle of the ring away from the spikes. Now that the Behemoth was weakened, and Rogin was prepared for it he thought maybe he could stand up to it. With yet another growl it started moving slowly towards him, its legs shaking beneath it. As it got in range, it swiped at Rogin, lifting its arm high to crush him into the ground. Rogin raised his sword over his head to block. The thick arm connected with the sword, the fine edge almost cutting straight through the massive forearm. The beast groaned with pain and swiped sideways with the other arm, catching Rogin in the face and knocking him onto his back. The Wampa retreated back, holding his injured arm close to his chest. Rogin shook his head, trying to brush away the ache in his jaw, and stood up. He ran towards his wounded enemy with his sword raised high. He brought it down, aiming to slice into the Wampa's chest and finish the fight. Before he could, the Wampa reached up with his good hand and slapped the sword away, knocking it from his hands. The Wampa lashed out, trying to take advantage of Rogin's surprise, aiming to backhand Rogin. Rogin ducked under the arm and extended his retractable claws. He shot his arm up into the Wampa's throat, grabbing as much flesh as he could and tearing it out. The Beast gurgled and fell to his knees, swaying for a moment before dropping to his face.

As soon as his opponent was dead, the adrenaline drained from Rogin's body and he sank to the ground, trying to get the most out of his rest.

Before long, he heard the mechanical whizzing of the lowering crane. He lifted his head and a slight man that Rogin recognized from his limited knowledge of other species as a Zabrak. He looked like he was just over one-and-a-half meters tall and didn't look like he weighed more than fifty-five kilograms. His skin was a deep red, interlaid with intricate black tattoos. Though the man was small, Rogin could see the ropey muscles beneath the man's thin, loose shirt. He had multiple horns protruding from his skull and small, bright red eyes. In his right hand, he held a light-weight sword with a long, thin blade. In addition to the sword, the Zabrak held a large shield made of some dark grey metal. It was a circular shape and looked to be just over a meter in diameter. Rogin stood up slowly and moved to the center of the pit. The Zabrak jumped nimbly off the wooden platform onto the sand, darkened by the blood of his former combatants. Behind him a man dragged the Wampa's dead body onto the platform.

Rogin walked to the middle of the pit and held his sword towards the man. The Zabarak reached his sword out and touched the tip of his sword to Rogin's.

They stepped back and analyzed each other for a moment. The Zabrak held his shield high, covering a good portion of his body, and extended his sword arm to the side. Rogin let his sword hang to his side and kept his free hand relaxed with the claws extended.

"A warrior should know the name of the man who kills him," the Zabrak sneered with a mocking grin as they circled each other. "I am Sorneel, son of Athneel"

Rogin nodded, thinking how wonderful it would feel to punch the man's smiling teeth out.

"Rogin of tribe Endor, but I am known on my planet as Blight of Barabel."

Sorneel laughed insultingly at the last part. He stopped circling and walked forward, hiding behind his shield, sword arm stretched out to the side, away from his body. Rogin moved forward and swung his arm up and brought it down on the Zabrak, who ducked his head and let the heavy blow bounce of his shield, creating a sharp clanging sound and making Rogin's sword tremor. Sorneel slashed his sword quickly across Rogin's chest, slicing through his tunic and scraping along his scales. He followed it up with a quick back-handed slash to his face. The foil didn't pierce his skin, but it stung and distracted him. Rogin lashed out with his leg, kicking the man's shield, trying to give himself time to regain his focus. The man stumbled back for a moment but then continued his assault. The tiny needle rapped against Rogin's scales, moving too quickly for Rogin to counter. The strikes did no real damage themselves, but the distractions opened him up for the Zabrak to step forward and swing his shield out, bashing Rogin's face with the solid metal. It felt like he had been run over by a speeder. Bells rang inside his head and Rogin didn't know how he managed to stay standing as he stumbled backwards on trembling legs. Only slightly controlling his movements he covered his hasty retreat with a broad, two-handed swipe that Sorneel easily side-stepped. Rogin regained his composure and stood up straight, waiting for the man's next attack. The slender, biting sword quickly came from the side towards Rogin's face, but Rogin reached out with his left hand and grabbed it. The skin on his palm was thick but the blade still cut a shallow groove in his hand. He ignored the pain and snapped the fragile blade in half. The man stared incredulously at his suddenly useless weapon. Opening his hand, Rogin released the broken pieces of metal and before, Sorneel could recover, opened his claws and slashed down on the man's wrist, severing tendons and forcing him to release the hilt of the useless sword.

The Zabrak screamed in pain, but managed to retain his composure. He stepped forward and swung his shield wide, forcing Rogin to jump backward to avoid it. Sorneel quickly stepped back and brought his shield up, covering almost his entire body with the oversized buckler. There was clear opportunity to swipe at the man's exposed leg, but Rogin felt something. Fear. Not in himself, but in the Zabrak. He could feel it, could smell it. It was palpable and pungent. He breathed deep and sucked it in. It flowed through him, strengthening and refueling him and bringing up a desire to prolong the fight.

With a mighty heave, he slammed his sword into the man's shield, bearing down with all his strength and tightening the grip on his sword to keep it from shaking. He heard Sorneel grunt from behind his shield as the blow clanged into his protection, forcing the smaller man to take a step back to brace himself. Rogin continued hammering down on the shield, striking from all angles, reveling in the fear gushing from the man, growing with every strike. It filled the air around them and Rogin used it to strike stronger and faster.

Cognus looked on from the stands as the armored giant rained blows down on the cowering man. Even from here she could feel him feeding off the Zabrak's fear; this fight would be over soon.

Sorneel was forced to continue retreating and now his back was up against the spikes. Rogin felt as if he could see the fear and panic oozing from the Zabrak. Rogin grabbed onto the pommel of his sword and spun in a circle, swinging in a large arc, letting his sword build momentum and guiding it to the side of the Zabrak's shield. The force of the blow, fueled by momentum and the man's fear, overwhelmed Sorneel's defences and his shield was ripped from his grasp and fell to the floor. With no weapons or defences remaining, the Zabrak, looking significantly less ferocious now, held his hands up in a pathetic show of surrender. Rogin drank in the terror radiating from the man. Instead of simply cutting him down, Rogin jumped into the air and kicked the man in the chest with both feet. Rogin fell onto hard to his back and Sorneel was pushed backwards, impaled on the spikes.

Rogin rolled to his stomach and used his sword to help him stand up. He walked towards his fallen foe, still standing straight up, impaled and held up by the long bone spikes. He stared at the Zabrak, an expression of pain and shock permanently fixed on his face. The body was pierced in half a dozen places; tips of two spikes were visible from the front, protruding through the shoulder and stomach of the dead man. As the bloodlust and adrenaline of battle faded away, Rogin felt the beginning of guilt creep up in its place. He'd had to kill the man, but he didn't need to do it in such an unbelievably cruel way. Never before had he reveled in taking another life like that. He'd basked in the man's fear and tortured him instead of just ending it like he should have. He reached up with his hand and pulled the man's eyelids over his wide eyes. Feeling suddenly tired he sat down, only two more fights and he would be free.

 **C** ognus puzzled over the Barabel's latest actions. He had shown such strength in his latest fight, but now this. He showed weakness in his care for his defeated enemies. It was strange that he could savor the fear he conjured in the man one moment and then have compassion for him in the next. Despite this oddity, she held to her faith in the Force; it would not have shown her this man if he wasn't ready to become her apprentice.

" **Y** ou will tell no one I was here," Kinsa said with a calm soothing voice, using the Force to push at the human's mind to persuade him. She hated using such methods on innocent civilians; it wasn't the Jedi way. But sometimes sacrifice had to be made for the greater good of the Galaxy, and, besides, it's not like one could actually call this dirty, soiled slaver an innocent.

"I will tell no one you were here," the man echoed back to her with an empty voice, his blank eyes seeming to stare past Kinsa.

Kinsa turned away from the slaver, feeling both satisfied and angry. She finally knew, after talking to dozens of these lowlifes that Rogin was on Alkaroe fighting for his freedom in the gladiator pits. Even though she had the information, she couldn't do anything about it. Alkaroe was days away and she was already way behind. By the time she got there, the fights would be over; for all she knew, Rogin could have already left the planet. There was a chance he was defeated in the ring, but she knew she couldn't count on that. Based on their brief encounter, it was plausible he would be successful. She ran back to her ship to set a course for Alkaroe; she had to at least try to catch him. Kinsa had let him slip through her fingers; she was responsible for him now.

 **A** fter what felt like only a few seconds, Rogin looked up to see a middle-aged Barabel being lowered into the pit. He brandished a sword similar to Rogin's, and his grey scales showed him to be a Hoskarr. Rogin breathed a sigh of relief at this, he'd been worried that he would end up fighting another Endor. The man was smaller than Rogin both in height and weight, but he was still large for a member of the smaller tribe. The man walked slowly to the middle of the ring.

"I'm sorry we must fight, my cousin, but my family needs me," said the man, bowing low.

"I'm sorry to deprive your family of one of their providers; I hope their other father can support them," replied Rogin, bowing back.

"So certain you will win, young one." The man chuckled, shaking his head with a slight smile. He took his sword and stabbed it in the ground. "Shall we fight as true warriors?" he asked, holding his hands open.

"Fine by me," Rogin replied, planting his sword into the sand as well.

Both Barabels crouched and extended their hands. Rogin opened the claws on his left hand but kept his right hand's claws retracted. The older man stuck first; rushing forward at Rogin without much speed, he moved to grab at his legs and drive him to the ground. Before the grey-skinned man could reach him, Rogin went down into a sprawl. The other man launched up suddenly into a headlock, momentum driving his forearm into Rogin's throat, cutting off his air. Rogin slammed his palms into the man's ribs, knocking the wind out of him and feeling the man's grip loosen. Hitting the older man's elbow and pulling his own head down at the same time, he managed to slip out of the man's grasp, then step away. He wrapped his arms around his opponent and squeezed him as hard as he could, keeping the old man from regaining his breath. He bent his knees and attempted to lift the lighter man. Before he got him off the ground, the Hoskarr brought his hands down, smashing Rogin's ears, disorientating him and causing him to release the man. Rogin stepped back and kicked quickly at the grey man's knee, crumpling his leg and causing him to fall to a kneeling position. Before his adversary could rise, Rogin brought his knee up into the man's face, knocking him onto his back.

Reaching down with his clawed hand he tried to grab the man, but he slid quickly along the floor and kicked Rogin's legs out from under him. Rogin cursed himself as his head thudded painfully to the floor; he had been so close to finishing it. They both scrambled to their feet and faced each other once again, the other man favoring his right leg and Rogin ignoring his throbbing head. The man lunged forward, grabbing at Rogin's chest, but his leg caused him to stumble and he only managed to grab onto his shirt. Rogin jumped backwards and his shirt, already cut from the Zabrak's many slices, tore off, exposing his chest. The man looked at him with furious, wide eyes.

"You!" he exclaimed, diving forward, the man's anger flying towards Rogin along with his body.

He tackled Rogin to the ground and straddled him, hammering down with his clenched fists and roaring with rage. The furious man stopped his desperate assault, reaching up and grabbing hold of one of the spikes. He snapped it off and brought it down towards Rogin's face.

Finally recovering from the unexpected and overwhelming barrage, Rogin grabbed the man's wrist, working to keep the sharp bone away from his face. Bit by bit, it moved down, pushed on by overwhelming anger. Looking past the curved spike, Rogin could see the grimacing, hateful look of the man who wanted nothing more than to kill him. He felt the man's pulsing rage washing over him, rejuvenating his tired muscles. With his new strength, he wrenched the man's wrist to the side, hearing the pop as it snapped, followed by the splintered bone breaking through the grey scales. The spike fell harmlessly to the ground and the man screamed in pain. The rage that had been pouring forth disappear in a flash, replaced by blinding agony. Rogin pinned the man's legs beneath him and rolled to the right, getting on top of the still screaming man. He grabbed the spike where it lay and, without hesitation, jabbed it from the side into the man's skull. The sharpened bone easily pierced the man's relatively soft temple and drove into his brain, killing him instantly and putting an end to his howling. The Force-fueled energy immediately drained out of Rogin and he collapsed from exhaustion.

He lay there atop the dead body for a few moments before he felt two sets of arms lifting him up. Still too exhausted to move, he was half dragged and half walked along the sand to be dropped onto a hard wooden surface. He forced himself to sit up and look around, he realized he was being lifted out of the hole. Sitting slumped, with his head practically in his lap, it seemed like he was being rescued out of a massive crater in the earth or the mouth of some monster with long bone teeth. In his mind, he knew it was only a few meters high, but he felt as if he were being pulled up for hours; maybe he was hallucinating. With a few deep breaths, he started clearing his head, started coming back to reality. He gathered his strength and was able to pull himself up by the time the platform came to a stop.

For the first time in what felt like hours, he became aware of the world outside the pit. He heard the crowd screaming and he stepped uncertainly onto the arena sand. The loud voice was still screaming over the microphone but he couldn't understand the words; it was just a noisy blur. He felt someone grab his arm and raise it in the air. He turned to see the short, dark-skinned man smiling wider than Rogin had ever seen a human smile. He realized he was being cheered and celebrated, but didn't understand why. He knew he had to win five fights and he was certain he had only won four.

Despite his confusion, he couldn't help being happy; as long as he wasn't fighting he felt good. The larger human came next to him and propped him up as they started walking away from the pit and the dead body it contained. He leaned heavily on the man, practically being dragged back to the bench where he had been sitting before the fights. As soon as he sat down, his legs turned to jelly he honestly didn't think he could have walked one more step. He felt something being pushed at his lips and he gulped down the cool water.

"Alright kid, I'm gunna tell you the truth. No-one makes it past four fights; you're the first in almost ten years. We don't tell you all that 'cause then you all wouldn't fight. But now you're gunna fight our reigning champions for your last fight. There's two of them, Cathar twins; one's huge and the other is a tiny little guy. I convinced my pop to give you 45 minutes rest before you fight 'em. They haven't lost, not once. But I got a feeling about you; you've got my bet"

Rogin stared at him, hearing nothing after 45 minutes rest. He ate the dried meats that were shoved at him and drifted off into a light sleep.

 **C** ognus was certain now why the Force had brought her here, not that she'd ever had any doubts. She'd been disappointed when he had showed remorse towards the Zabrak but seeing him draw strength from the other Barabel's anger made up for it. He was destined for the Dark side. He was untrained in the Force and yet he could already transform and control other people's emotions. She was unable to tell exactly how strong he was until she was in his presence, but, based on his performance alone, she knew he was capable.

 **D** arth Millennial stood over his courtyard, watching his pupils as they trained amongst themselves. He had almost fifty now of various abilities and strengths. He stepped off the ledge and levitated down among them. They stopped their drills and turned to face him.

"Kneel," he spoke in a still whisper.

His students took a knee, looking up at their Master with a mix of fear and admiration.

"I have had a vision," he said in a quiet voice, forcing his acolytes to strain to hear. "An alien, a beast, is coming to us soon. He does not come to join us, but to destroy us. I don't know when he will arrive or where he comes from, but he must be stopped. You must train harder to prepare for this challenger. We live together; we all need to train together. We need to fight together and, if we die, we will die together. We will not die though," he corrected himself quickly. "We will conquer the Galaxy together. I have seen it; it will come to pass."


	6. Chapter 6

**Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome.**

 **6**

" **L** adies and gentleman, are you ready?!" the announcer yelled, startling Rogan from his state of hypnagogia. "Our ferocious new challenger will be taking on your reigning champions; Hisk with devastating speed and precision and Thile, the monstrous man of doom. Prepare yourselves for...the terrible twins!"

The crowd screamed and drums started beating. A large spotlight shone on the other side of the arena and Rogin saw two furry, bi-pedal, cat-like men walking towards the spiked arena. They had long, orangish hair covering their entire bodies, similar to the Wookie or the Wampa except their fur was straight and well-kept, not shaggy. The hair covering their faces was shorter and completely white. One, he assumed, was Thile, was almost as tall as he was and the other, Hisk, was surprisingly small, about half the size. He walked towards the pit and allowed himself to be lowered into it. He waited as the two men walked around the arena, waving to the crowd. Rogin studied the men as he walked, forcing the fogginess from his mind. The small one had two long, curved knives strapped to his back. Even when he was walking casually around the arena, Rogin could see he walked on the balls of his feet and his entire body seemed tensed, coiled like a spring, as if he were prepared for an unexpected attack. The large one carried a long wooden spear tipped with a durasteel spike. His arms were casually at his side and he walked with long, slow, flat-footed strides. Despite their sizes it, was clear the smaller man was the greater threat.

Rogin knew he had one advantage: champions like this never ended up fighting people and, when they did, they only faced wounded and tired men. As he was called to his feet, he hung his head and hunched his back. Walking straight to the pit as the brothers continued circling around, he kept his sword low as if it were too heavy for him to hold. He would pretend to be more tired than he was until the fight started.

The men were lowered into the pit after Rogin, still smiling and waving to the crowd. They looked at him, clearly tired and worn out, with a knowing smile. The smaller one drew his knives and smiled in anticipation. Both of the strange, furry men crouched and held their weapons towards him, as the voice came over the speaker.

"Aaaand fight!"

Rogin once again shut out the crowd and the announcer. He stared at the smaller Cathar, he saw nothing there but cold, focused calculation. When he looked at the larger man he saw something else in face. There was a lack of attention and a somewhat distanced look in his eye, Rogin smiled to himself; the man was clearly drunk. These two hadn't expected to fight today and the larger man had clearly taken advantage of the free time.

Rogin struck quickly before they could coordinate an attack; he feigned a shallow stab towards the smaller one, who jumped back quickly. Immediately he spun backwards, bringing his sword bearing onto the larger man, who reacted surprisingly fast. Despite his inebriated state, he clearly wasn't to be taken lightly. The man planted his spear into the ground and used it to push himself out of the way. Rogin's sword kept coming and it crashed into the man's spear, causing it to splinter in half. He tried to press his advantage but, before he could lift his sword, he felt two quick jabs in his left leg. He whirled his head back around to see the small man smiling, a thin line of blood on both his blades. Rogin swung his sword up and behind him, over his shoulder. The move caught the man off guard and sliced a shallow cut in his furry face as he jumped away, missing his eye by centimeters. Rogin turned around fully as the small man fell to his back. Just as he took a step towards the prostrate man, he felt the large twin coming to attack from behind; he needed to stop turning his back on these men. On instinct, Rogin twisted to the right so that he was standing sideways. He heard the man behind him grunt and saw the broken spear whizzing by his stomach. Clearly surprised by Rogin's dodge, Thile had overextended and now wasn't in a position to pull himself back fast enough. Rogin punished his mistake and lashed out with his elbow, smashing the Cathar in the face. Thile dropped his spear and his hands flew up to his nose. He hurriedly backpedaled away from Rogin, blood running through his fingers.

Knowing their tactics, Rogin turned on the small man before he could attack him from behind. He grabbed his sword with both hands and thrust it down on the man, who was on his knees trying to stand. The Cathar quickly got one foot under him and brought his knives up in an X, catching Rogin's sword in the middle and pushing it up so it passed harmlessly above his head. The massive sword slid along the crevice, sending up a shower of sparks as the Cathar worked to keep it away from him. Rogin pressed down, surprised by the small man's strength. There was a kick at the back of his legs and Rogin collapsed to his knees. His arms flew up and his sword fell to the sand as he did.

The big man brought his spear up horizontally under Rogin's chin and pulled it, forcing him painfully back to his feet. Rogin attempted to force his chin down to his chest and, when that didn't help, he tried in vain to tear the spear from his throat.

The small man stood slowly, raising his arms to the crowd, calling out his victory. He sauntered over to the far side of the pit, wiping his face and looking distastefully at the blood. He held up a blade to the crowd and then played with it for a moment, drawing out the suspense. Rogin struggled to suck in air as he fought against the man's spear. Hisk cocked his arm back to throw the knife, giving Rogin a wink. He saw it all in slow motion as the Cathar took a deep step forward and brought his arm down for the throw. Once the fingers released the hilt and the knife was almost out of his hands, Rogin moved. He lashed out with his tail, whipping it up to slam into at the large man's crotch. The man let out a yelp of pain and released his grip on the spear. Ducking down quickly, Rogin felt the knife whiz over his head and thud into the Cathar's chest, cutting off his long groan. Still crouched low to the ground, Rogin grabbed the broken spear from and shoved it backwards, driving it into the man's stomach, just to be sure. Rogin looked up in time to see the look on the remaining twin's face turn from pain and surprise to anger.

Had he not been so focused on the fight, he may have laughed in the face of this cocky man. Showboating around before the fight was even won, letting his opponent formulate a plan instead of finishing him quickly, the tiny fool deserved death.

Rogin picked up his sword and ran at the man, bringing his blade low to hack at his opponent's legs. The Cather jumped sideways over the blade, landing in a roll and coming up behind Rogin, stabbing him quickly in the leg before diving away.

"So big, so slow," he said as he took his other knife from his brother's chest.

The man was clearly much faster than Rogin; at the same time he had made the mistake many outsiders make of assuming that all Barabels were simply dumb brutes because of their appearance. Rogin feigned a slice from the right and, when the man stepped back to avoid it, he lunged forward and aimed a kick at the man's chest. Hisk tried to move out of the way but Rogin's foot still caught him in the shoulder, making him spin around and fall face first into the sand. He managed to turn it into a clumsy roll away from Rogin, coming to his feet centimeters from the spikes.

"Not so slow after all," the Cathar panted with a smile.

Rogin ignored his foolishness, sprinting with his sword pointed forward like a lance. He held it low, aiming to run the tiny man through. The small man ducked under the blade, jumping down to lie flat on his stomach. Rogin's sword retraced its steps, coming back before stabbing down. Hisk turned onto his back and the sword that sunk uselessly to the sand beside him. From his back, the man reached up and stabbed Rogin in the thigh with both knives, twisting his blades roughly before yanking them back out. The pain of the vicious attack flashed in Rogin's head and caused his leg to give out and to drop him once again to his knees. The Cathar stood and slashed at Rogin's chest while moving away. The blades stung as they skipped off his scales, but didn't draw any blood. Rogin buried his pain and stepped up on his unsteady leg. He dropped his sword and stared at the slight man as he casually backed away.

Rogin was tired of dealing with this squirming, cowardly man. He no doubt thought himself to be a great warrior as he darted around like a pathetic swamp rat, stabbing Rogin in the back and striking him while he was distracted. On Barab 1, a warrior would die rather than shame himself in such a way; clearly it was not the same in the rest of the Galaxy. Rogin's anger grew and he stood with his arms relaxed, waiting for the man to attack him.

The Cather tilted his head in confusion before running at Rogin. He swiped with his right knife towards Rogin's side. Rogin let himself be hit, accepting the painful but unthreatening cut. Before the slimy man could back away, Rogin grabbed at his extended arm and pinned it to his side. He ignored the pain as the knife, still imbedded in his side, moved about, pulled by the struggling, panicking Cathar. He pulled his right arm back and smashed the man in the face, crushing it under his rock-hard fist. Hisk's face erupted with blood and he cried out in agony, stabbing Rogin in the shoulder with his free blade. The thin tip slipped through Rogin's scales and drove into his flesh, but Rogin ignored the pain. Rather than give up, he used the pain to fuel his next strike, practically forcing his way through the man's wet, matted face. He brought his knee up into the Cathar's ribs. Feeling the ribs shatter, he released the man and let him flop to his knees, doubled over from the hard impact. Rogin tried to upper-cut the folded, practically unconscious man. As he swung his arm up, the man amazingly bent back, straightening himself just in time for Rogin's fist to fly past, centimeters away from connecting.

The amazingly present man swiveled to the left and stabbed at Rogin's thigh, drawing blood once again. Roaring with anger, at himself and at his enemy, Rogin reached down and tried to grab at him, images of crushing the smaller man filling his mind. As he should have expected, Hisk easily ducked out of the way. He swiped at Rogin's ribs as he stood; the sword scratched painfully against his side again and left a chalky white mark on his scales.

Rogin reached again for the Cathar with his clawed hand, but he jumped out of the way and scrambled to the other side of the pit. Hisk stood there as Rogin heaved with weariness and anger, a smile barely visible past his bloody mess of a face. How had Rogin been so foolish? He had done exactly what this foolish cat had done. He'd released the man when he thought he was finished, giving him a chance to recover. He had been so certain he'd felt bones break; now the man stood, crouched and ready, as if he had never been hurt.

"Not so slow, but not fast enough," he said with a smile.

Rogin looked at the man, searching for anger or fear he could use to strengthen himself, but he found nothing. Even after all he had done to the man, even causing him to kill his own brother, there was no emotion. The man was cold and calculated, fighting with his mind instead of his emotions. Rogin was draining blood, the strength slowly seeping out of him. If he could just grab the man he could crush him, but he knew the small man was too fast for him; he'd lost his only chance.

The Cathar just stood there, taunting him with his stillness, making no move to attack. The contempt and arrogance of the worm stirred anger up within Rogin. Instead of ignoring the anger and trying to stay focused as he usually did, he embraced it. He found the fury and concentrated on it, feeding it and letting it grow slowly. As it grew into a brewing flame, he used it to fuel himself and give him strength. He felt his weariness falling away and he felt something besides anger rise up in him; it was feeding off the rage, building and pushing to be released.

The Cathar's smug face fell away as he felt something change within the pit. He ran towards Rogin, confusion and worry mixing on his face. When he got within a meter of him, Rogin emitted a yell and stretched his hands towards the man. The running man froze immediately as if he had run into an invisible wall. He stood completely still, held by the unseen Force. Rogin continued to yell as he released his rage, holding the struggling Cathar in place. Hisk's mouth opened in a silent scream of pain. Rogin raised his arms and the man lifted off his feet, suspended in the air, his face contorting in pain. Rogin continued pressing in on the man with the Force, crushing him with it, and still the man didn't scream.

He let loose one final roar, scratchy and raw because of his overworn throat. The scream was carried forward on a wave of invisible force that collapsed onto into the man. Rogin immediately felt the man expire and he let him drop to the ground. The yelling and his stream of Force energy cut off at the same time. When he closed it off, he could still feel the rage-fueled fire within him simmering on low, ready to be fanned into a full flame. Usually, after using the Force, he felt drained and tired but, this time, Rogin felt strong and hyper-aware of his surroundings; every sense was over active. He felt the sharp pain from his cuts and scrapes, the arid, sandy air blowing against them and making them sting. He could hear the soft murmur of the astonished crowd and the quiet static coming through the still speakers. He could smell blood, his and that of his defeated foes. His mouth was thick with the sharp, coppery taste of blood mixed with saliva; both had dried to a thick gel-like state. He took all of this in at once, feeling and processing it all in a split second.

He raised his arms in the air and roared at the top of his lungs. His yell broke the crowd's stunned silence and they erupted, joining in with his call.

 **C** ognus sat in silence as the hysterical crowd frothed around her. She had seen the exact scene in her vision a few days ago, yet still she was amazed. It was different to see it like a video as opposed to witnessing it in person, to feel him change from gathering the emotions from others to concentrating on himself to fuel his powers. She wondered if he had even understood the shift. While not unheard of, it was rare for an untrained being to show such command over the Force. She watched patiently as men were lowered into the pit to bring the Barabel out

"I promised you a brilliant battle and I dare say I DELIVERED!" screamed the voice over the speakers. "We're gunna get him cleaned up and then we'll bring your new champion out for a proper introduction."

The men guided the Barabel to the tunnel through which the two Cathar's had entered the arena.

Cognus pushed her way through the screaming crowd until she was in the row just above the tunnel. She strengthened her aura of inperception and jumped quickly down the almost ten meters to the sand of the arena, cushioning the fall with the Force and causing a small cloud of sand to fly up. As soon as she landed on the sand, she used the Force to quickly dash into the tunnel before the excited crowd could see her.

 **R** ogin was laid out on a long table in a room within the tunnel as dozens of hands flew over him. Disinfecting and bandaging his wounds, cleaning and filing his dirty, chipped scales. Someone came with some sort of paste and made a move to put it on his chest.

"No," Rogin insisted, holding his hand over the scar.

"It will get rid of the scar," the man replied in a quiet nervous voice, still trying to spread the paste on him.

"I want it to stay," he insisted firmly; the man nodded and quickly walked away.

The short, dark-skinned man who had led them into the arena walked into the room in the tunnel. He had a greedy smile that took over his entire face. He pushed the attendants out of the way until he came up beside Rogin's table.

"I say 'give 'em a show' to all the fighters I handle, but I've never had someone take it to heart like you. That was absolutely astounding, best string of fights I think I've ever had the pleasure of seeing." He paused his gushing to catch his breath and turned to see another man entering before he could continue. "Champion, let me introduce you to my father, Aheef Baloo, the proprietor of the Alkaroe gladiator pits." Rogin sat up and saw a tall, older man walking towards them. He had a full head of white hair and a matching beard; the stark white made his skin seem even darker. He walked towards them in long steady strides, his beaming face mirroring his son's. Before he got up to the table, he dismissed the bumbling attendants trying to work around the younger man. They quickly and happily filed out of the room, leaving Rogin alone with these two men and their overly happy faces.

"Well, well, well," he said, grabbing Rogin's hand and pumping it enthusiastically. "That was quite a fight, simply magnificent, and then the surprise ending. Any other fighter would have used it in every fight, but not you, my man; you're a true showman. You know," he leaned in as if he had an important secret to tell," not many are privy to this information but my ancestors were from Haruunn Kal; they were Korun. So I know a thing or two about the Force. Not close to your level of mastery, of course," he added quickly

Rogin just nodded and plastered a fake smile on his face as the man droned on. He had no idea what a Korun was or what that should mean to him.

Eventually, the man's never-ending chatter wore him thin; he had things to do and they couldn't be done from here.

"So when am I going to leave?" Rogin asked, interrupting the man's stream of conversation.

He and his son looked at each other quickly.

"Well, don't you worry about that yet, champion." He chuckled awkwardly. "Hey, it's not right that we just keep calling you champion. What's your name, son?"

Rogin felt fear secreting from the man and he knew he was trying to cover something up. He stood up from the table and towered over the men threateningly. He was about to ask for the truth when he felt something enter the room. The presence was so overwhelming it cleared his mind and made him forget what he was about to say or why he was upset. He looked towards the door and saw a small, thin man in a loose black robe with a large hood pulled down over his face. As he looked over to the man and felt the spirit radiating from him he knew it was someone like him. It reminded him somewhat of the essence he had felt radiating off the Jedi, but it still felt different. Instead of the sickly sweetness that made bile rise in his stomach, there was a strong, hard aura that made him feel more puissant just by being around it.

The older man looked around strangely and Rogin knew he could feel it as well. The younger man had fallen silent but made no other sign that he knew what was going on.

The mysterious man reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out two long metal rods. With a dual snap-hiss, two short blue blades materialized from the rods he now saw were lightsaber hilts. It was the same weapon the Jedi had used to cut through his sword except that, for some reason, the blades were much shorter and the hilts were almost twice as long. The men turned around and pulled blaster pistols from their holster quickly and shot at the intruder. The hooded man flourished his blades wildly and the bolts flew backwards towards the men, burning holes into their chests. They fell stiffly to the ground.

"Follow me," he whispered harshly from beneath the hood.

Moving quickly, he walked past Rogin, away from the arena and deeper into the tunnel. He walked without looking back, extinguished his lightsabers and placing them back in his robes; either he knew Rogin would follow or didn't care. Without a moment of hesitation, Rogin quickly turned and followed after him, his longer strides helping him to easily catch up with the smaller man. They walked deeper into the tunnel until it opened to a large room. It had two chairs in the middle of the room and a table littered with food and drinks. Rogin assumed this was where the two Cathars had waited before the fight. Besides the table, there were two staircases in the room, one going up and one heading down.

The man stood still in the middle of the room and bowed his head for a moment of pause. Rogin was about to ask where they were going when the robed man started moving again, quickly going up the stairs. They walked up three flights of stairs before going through a large wooden door and emerging outside.

The man continued walking through the busy street and Rogin followed after him. He started to fall behind as the people surrounding him stopped walking and stared up at his massive frame in awe, forcing him to push his way through. He tried to ignore their stares as he picked up his pace and continued after the man who was able to move quickly, using his smaller frame to knife through the crowd. Rogin started to recognize his surroundings and he realized they were heading towards the spaceport.

After a few more minutes, they came to the docks and the man walked up to a large black ship. He reached into his robe and the door in the side of the ship opened with a hiss. Once again, without looking back, the man entered the ship. Once again, Rogin followed him without hesitation. The mysterious man closed the door and turned around, pulling his hood down at the same time.

As the hood came down Rogin was surprised to see a woman's face exposed. She had pale, red skin and a beautiful face that was covered with thick black tattoos, somewhat similar to the Zabraks. Protruding from her temples she had two large, cone-shaped horns. They were light brown and they curved downward, ending in a point on either side of her chin. Seeing his clear surprise, a mischievous grin appeared on her face and a set of small, pointed teeth were exposed. The hands she had used to pull down the hood, which were now hidden by the long arms of her robe, were disproportionately large for a female of her size. Rogin didn't recognize the species of the woman but, living on an isolated planet like Barab 1, he didn't have knowledge of many species. Not knowing her species, Rogin also couldn't estimate her age, but she had the agility and stance of a young person. Stretched to her full height, she only reached his chest, but the commanding presence emanating from her made Rogin feel dwarfed for the first time in his life.

"I am Darth Cognus, heir to the line of Bane and last of the Dark Lords of the Sith."

Rogin didn't know what to say in response. This was beyond his wildest dreams, yet he had so many questions. How did she find him? How did she survive when all others had fallen to the Jedi? What did she expect of him now?

"What is the line of Bane?" Rogin asked finally.

Her playful smile disappeared and her face became quickly serious.

"That is for my apprentice to learn, and you are not yet my apprentice. First you must prove yourself to be worthy."

"Weren't you watching when I defeated those six men?" Rogin asked, slightly insulted. "Isn't that proof enough?"

"I was watching and I was very impressed," she replied calmly. "However, there is more to being a Sith than just martial strength. There is wisdom, patience, cunning, desire, forethought, and, most importantly, there is sacrifice. You have proven your physical prowess but, until you prove yourself in the rest, you are unworthy to be named my apprentice."

Rogin nodded, believing it would be more prudent to stay silent than to ask one of the many questions quickly filling his mind.

"Can you fly a ship?" Darth Cognus asked him.

"No," Rogin replied, resisting the urge to explain why; this woman didn't seem like one who would enjoy excuses.

"Hmm, well then, sit in the co-pilots chair. I will fly today and you will fly from here on out. I hope you're a quick learner."

Rogin nodded again, remaining calm on the outside when in truth he was extremely nervous. This was only the second time he had been on a ship, and the first time he had seen a cockpit. The blinking lights and seemingly endless buttons meant nothing to him. He waited until Darth Cognus sat down and then sat in the chair behind her. As soon as he sat down in the soft chair, his weariness fell over him. He tried to brush it away, but it was like a heavy blanket smothering him that refused to be shaken off.

"Use the Force and your emotions to purge yourself of distractions," Darth Cognus told him as she stared down at the dashboard.

Rogin didn't truly know how to do that. He'd only used the Force in combat situations to increase his physical prowess; using it to increase his mental focus was foreign to him. No matter his inexperience with the technique, he knew he had to try. He closed his eyes for a moment and searched his past for a memory with strong emotions attached to it. The day he got his scar flashed into his mind and he latched onto it. The anger and sadness, the bitterness and pain. The emotions rolled through him, burning his fatigue away, making him feel hyper aware of his surroundings again. He tried to control it, and focus in on Darth Cognus' motions. He managed to rein it in and was able to slow down and analyze her actions as she did them. He was amazed at this specific control over his emotions; he thought that being in the presence of Darth Cognus made him stronger.

 **C** ognus smiled to herself at the ease with which the Barabel conjured his emotions to focus. She acted as if he may not become her apprentice, but she knew the Force had a reason for bringing them together. She was surprised by the strength of the emotions he had brought up; she would have to ask him the story behind those feelings later.

" **I** can pass." Kinsa told the security officer guarding the crime scene, using the Force to cloud the man's judgment and persuade him.

"You can pass ma'am," the man said as he stepped aside to let Kinsa through.

This was the second time in a week she had used the Force to bend a civilian's will, and this security officer was certainly an innocent. She justified it to herself because it would have taken hours of explaining for her to get in without doing it. She walked down the long tunnel, trying to stay in the shadows away from the officers. The tunnel opened into a large room packed with people. Luckily, none of them were looking her way; they were all focused on the bodies in the middle of the room. They were both bald, dark-skinned humans. They looked so similar Kinsa assumed they were related; based on age, Kinsa figured father and son. On the edge of the onlookers, she saw two other brown-skinned humans that she figured were other relatives of the deceased.

The dead men had pistol blasters in their hands and blaster burns through the middle of both their chests. Kinsa stood just outside the ring of people and studied the scene, trying to retroactively figure out how it had all unfolded. She ran through the different possibilities, picturing it all in her head, but couldn't get it to make sense. The main problem was how had Rogin obtained a gun; as much as she understood it these gladiator battles used strictly melee weapons. She had thought of him stealing one of their guns and then shooting them, but then why would he have bothered to place it back in their hands. She felt a nagging feeling that something more was involved here, that there was more here than what she could see, something darker. Whether that feeling was all in her head or it was real, she had hit a dead end here. She would collect all the information she could and then return to Coruscant. As much as she hated needing help, it was clear she needed it here. She would take it before the masters and see what they could make of it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Questions/reviews/critiques always welcome**

 **7**

 **B** y the time they landed, Rogin felt confident he could fly the ship pretty well. He had watched Darth Cognus' every move and committed it to memory; he may not be the best pilot but he thought he was at least competent. He was proud of the accomplishment and also very glad it was over. He was absolutely exhausted; his head ached and his vision was fuzzy. He had never used the Force for such a long time before and it had drained him. He had managed to stay awake for the duration of the flight, but now he felt like he was about to collapse. Rogin didn't know where he was, but he knew it couldn't have been that far. Looking at the clock, he could see they had only been in hyperdrive for about six hours. He felt a bump as the ship settled onto the planet. As the ship powered down, he breathed a sigh of relief and slumped into his soft chair. He craned his neck and tried to look out the window to get a view of the planet, but all he could see was a blinding white landscape. He heard the mechanical whizzing as the door opened and he turned to Darth Cognus, waiting for her to leave first. Instead of making her way to the door, she sat still in her seat.

"Do you know why my lightsabers are blue?" she asked without turning around.

"No," he replied honestly after trying to come up with an answer. "From what I've been told, Sith use red lightsabers and only Jedi use other colours."

"Exactly. You, as well as everyone else in the Galaxy, associate blue lightsabers with Jedi, the Jedi included. So, when I'm going to kill someone, if they see my lightsabers they are often put at ease for a moment. Or, if I'm fighting a Jedi, they have a moment, a split second of hesitation. That one-second pause, that sense of safety, is usually all the advantage I need." she explained.

Rogin sat up in his chair, his respect for the Sith growing. He was amazed at the complexity and strategy behind this simple act.

"This is the planet Adega; this is where the Jedi Padawans come to harvest their lightsaber crystals. I will return in a week and, when I get back, you will have harvested your crystal and constructed your lightsaber using it and these other materials." She turned around in her chair and pointed to a small pile of materials Rogin didn't recognize.

"There are multiple hilts and for you to choose from as well as other materials needed for building your lightsaber. "You will almost certainly run into Padawans also searching for crystals. You have proven yourself strong and I have no doubt you could easily defeat an unarmed, barely-trained Padawan. As such, you are not to kill or maim any of them; this is not a test of your fighting abilities."

"So do I have to avoid them?" Rogin asked, confused.

"It doesn't really matter to me how you do it; you can avoid them, or work with them. All that I care about is that when I come back you have a newly-constructed lightsaber. If it doesn't happen then I can't accept you as my apprentice."

She turned back to her controls and started the take-off protocol.

"Oh, and watch out for other dangerous creatures besides the Jedi. There are many non-sentient monsters that call the planet home," she added.

Rogin grabbed the unrecognizable materials and stuffed them into the leather sack beside the pile. Mixed in with the group of materials, there was a pile of food rations; he grabbed these and put them in the leather sack as well. He stepped off the ship and was blasted by the cold wind. He fought the urge to immediately run back to the warmth and protection of the ship; it felt like his blood had started freezing.

"Use your emotions," Darth Cognus called to him as the door closed.

 **C** ognus set a course for the core world of Coruscant and settled into her seat. Forcing Rogin to construct his lightsaber now would give her the time she needed to complete her mission. There was a young Senator, Alexander Ston, from the Mid-Rim world Dagro, that was trying to pass a bill that would lessen the political influence of the Jedi. He was preaching that the Sith were extinct and so there was no longer a real use for the Jedi. He was saying that a religious order like the Jedi should hold no sway in the workings of Galactic politics and shouldn't receive money from the government. Darth Cognus knew that the Jedi were fighting the bill and that some of the younger Jedi were threatening to leave the order if it passed. If the Jedi started splitting up, they would spread around the Galaxy, share and invent new ideas and grow stronger because of it. The Jedi thought their strength came from their unity and their traditions, but Cognus knew the truth. Strength, especially in the Force, came from change and conflict; as people adapted to change and evolved, their command over the Force grew. As long as the Jedi stayed safe in their comfortable tower, they would continue to grow stagnant, their strength and connection drifting away too slowly for them to notice. When the time finally came for the Sith to strike, they needed the Jedi all in one place.

So, she was heading to Coruscant to assassinate Senator Ston. By using a lightsaber, she would cast suspicion on the Jedi. The public would begin to distrust the Jedi but would be too afraid to say anything about it. It would create a small, subconscious schism between the Jedi and the rest of the Republic that would come in handy in the future.

 **K** insa walked down the long pristine halls of the Jedi temple, always amazed at how beautiful and majestic they were. She nodded to the Jedi as they bustled around her, on their way to the archives to look something up or to the training yard to learn from some great Master. Kinsa watched it all with a sort of wistful sadness. When she had first been recruited as a Jedi, she had been ecstatic. She was fourteen years old and had been hearing about Jedi all her life, the guardians of the Galaxy. She was trained by the noble Master Rilth who had dredged her from the streets of Nar Shaddaa.

She had become a Jedi Knight during the last war, but had never fought on Russan. Master Rilth believed that a few Jedi needed to fight with the normal military to help liberate planets that had been lost. She had fought long and hard, moving from planet to planet, troop to troop, beating back the horde or armies under Sith control. She had felt the final battle of Russan while she was fighting with a republic squad. She had felt crushed and sad, but when she heard the full story she felt proud. That was how it should be; the Jedi sacrificing themselves for the sake of the entire Galaxy. Once the true Sith were out of the way, it was a quick victory over their armies; no-one wanted to fight a losing battle, especially when there wasn't anyone to pay them. The Jedi had joined in the fight, expatiating the process even more; many armies simply surrendered at the first sign of the coming republic army. Finally, the treaties were signed, everyone put down their guns and then it was just over.

The Republic went back to living in relative peace and the Jedi huddled into their temple and never left. They talked amongst themselves about the Dark evils of the Galaxy, about how easy it would be to solve everyone's problems, if only they would listen to them. They made token speeches out in the real world, making it look as if they were trying to convince people when, in fact, they had all but given up. The Jedi seemed more than happy to discuss ideas while letting the people of the Galaxy suffer. At the same time, so many of their hypothetical plans involved stealing the freedom from citizens of the more troublesome planets, forcing them to the Jedi's will because the Order believed they knew what was best. It was a strange mix of overbearing control and a lack of care or concern. To her, the Jedi, at least the way they were now, just didn't make sense in this time of peace, had no real or clear purpose. Kinsa had felt it when Senator Ston had started making his speeches. He gave words to all the ideas that had been bubbling around in her mind.

She'd expected the Jedi to be in an outrage when the Senator made his bill, but most in the order just ignored it. The Senator just kept talking and the tension collected in the temple until Kinsa couldn't stand it. Since the end of the war she had been training to become a sentinel and, just around the time Senator Ston started his movement, she was chosen to travel the mid and outer rims to recruit new Jedi. She didn't love the work; it still felt like a waste of her gifts and talents, but she was just happy to get away from the rest of the Jedi. So now she travelled around, bringing more people into an order that was falling apart.

Kinsa believed fully in the light side of the Force but she wasn't sure she still believed in the Jedi order. They needed to do something, they needed to go out and find a way to continue helping the Galaxy rather than just congratulating each other's ideas about how to do it. As it was most members lived and died within the walls of the temple. If they were all self contained, only helping each other than what was their larger purpose?

Caught in her musings, she had almost walked straight into the council room. She stopped herself and went to sit outside the room. She waited for a few minutes, continuing to think, until one of the councilors called her in.

Every time she walked into this room, she felt simultaneously exposed and comforted. The light side was so thick in this room she felt it fill her with every breath.

"Jedi Knight Kinsa, what do you have to report?" asked Master Sifu, a tall, thin Zabrak with light brown skin, speaking suddenly and firmly. Of all the Masters on the Jedi council, Master Sifu was the one Kinsa had the strongest connection with.

"Always in such a rush, Master Sifu," Grand Master Liftling chided him with a smile.

Grand Master Liftling was the councilor Kinsa felt the most disconnected from.

"Apologies," he said, nodding his head to Kinsa. "You have done us a great service bringing so many younglings to be trained; all of us here appreciate your contribution."

Kinsa nodded her head, thanking them for the recognition. Part of her looked up to and revered these great Masters, but another part of her saw them as everything that was wrong with the order. These men and women, the most powerful in the Galaxy, just sitting in a tiny room talking amongst themselves. This group of people alone could change the Galaxy, but, instead, they did nothing, thus setting an example for the rest of the order.

"I believe some of you know parts of what happened, but I will explain it fully for those of you who do not," Kinsa said, starting off her explanation. "I went to Barab 1 to find initiates and to solve disputes between the tribes. I was told about a Force-sensitive man who had killed some other Barabels, so I took two native guides and went with them to investigate. I found the cave where he had made his home and we laid in wait for him. When he got back, he quickly used the Force to knock my guides unconscious and we fought. His strength and command of the Force was impressive but unrefined, and I was able to defeat him. I didn't want to waste such talent by throwing him in prison, so I foolishly offered to take him as a sort of apprentice and train him in the Light side of the Force, warning him he could never be a true Jedi. His only other option being Durin he quickly agreed. I took off his bonds and we were making our way to my ship, but he managed to escape and sneak onto a slave ship to Alkaroe. I learned that he was to fight in the gladiator pits to try to attain freedom. I went after him, but by the time I got to Alkaroe, he had already won his freedom, killing six other fighters as well as the owner of the gladiator pits and his son. There were a few reports of him walking to the spaceport and he has now disappeared."

Kinsa lowered her head to signify that she was finished. She knew she deserved to have her knighthood taken from her. She had tried to disobey the laws of the order and it had resulted in a Dark side user's escape; this was an unforgivable mistake and she was prepared to accept the consequences.

"I think it's best if we confer amongst ourselves. We will call you in when we make our decision," Master Sono, a large human with brown skin and short-cropped, straight hair, told her.

Kinsa bowed low and walked out. Of course they needed to "confer amongst themselves". They would talk for an hour on an issue that could be solved in a thirty-second vote. So she would sit outside doing nothing while Rogin was free to corrupt the Galaxy, with no-one to stop him.

 **T** he feeling of his bare feet crunching in the snow had long ago faded away, stolen by the numbing cold. The freezing wind blew around him, worming its way through his scales and biting into his skin. Barabels were slightly more resistant to cold than other cold-blooded humanoids because of the layer of fat they had developed between their scales and their flesh from spending all their waking moments in the cold dark of Barab 1. Despite this, Rogin's teeth chattered and his extremities were slowly going numb. The only reason he wasn't dead was because he was using the Force to keep himself warm.

He walked on towards the closest mountains, deep in thoughts of anger and pain, trying to keep his emotions high enough to fuel the Force bubbling within him. Ever since he had broken through what seemed like a barrier on Alkaroe he felt like he was starting to discover more about the Force within him. He thought of the Force he carried as a fire; it always burned low like hot embers. Then he threw emotions and memories into the fire like wood and kindling to make it grow in size and effect. The larger the fire got, the more fuel it required, until the flames crackled all around inside him and he had to release it. He had no external use for the Force now, so he fed it slowly, keeping it small and controlled.

Rogin suddenly felt something at the fringes of his perception. He stopped and tried to focus on it but was unable to tell what it was or where it was coming from. He continued moving forward, figuring that, if he felt it while walking this way, he would run into it eventually. He sped up as he saw a shape in the distance. It was a person wrapped up in a large cloak trudging through the snow. Rogin figured that even a Padawan would be able to feel the Dark Force emanating from him if he continued to use it. In that moment, he chose how he would deal with the Jedi. He stopped using the Force to warm himself and started running towards the figure. By the time he had gotten close enough for the person to turn around, his body started seizing up from the cold. The man yanked his hood down as he spun to look at Rogin. He had protective goggles around his eyes, but Rogin could tell it was a human; he looked a couple of years younger than Rogin. He rushed to Rogin without speaking and ripped off a heavy blanket he was wearing over his jacket, throwing it at him. Rogin quickly wrapped it around himself and nodded his thanks to the young man, who was putting his hood back up. Still unwilling to talk, the man pointed towards a mountain side with a small cave opening and they ran towards it. Rogin had to take shorter strides so the human could keep up with him. They reached the cave and Rogin ducked his head to fit into the entrance.

The human rushed in moments after him and they sat down in the cold but windless cave. The man took off his hood and goggles to reveal his bright red face, so sweaty that his hair was matted onto his head. Rogin had always found it curious how humans changed colour and leaked fluids based on the temperature.

"My name is Matoke," the young man panted, holding out his hand limply. Rogin shook his hand, making sure to keep his grip weak and soft.

"Barkadul," Rogin lied, using his father's name. "I'm sorry to ruin your pilgrimage, but I lost my way running away from some beast on my way here, and you were the first person I saw."

"It's no problem; I'm honestly surprised you survived at all. You're cold-blooded, right?"

Rogin nodded. "I was trying to use the Force to keep myself warm, but I knew it couldn't last much longer."

"Wow, well you're lucky. I'm not even sure I could do that; then again, my Master told me that we can often do things we don't know how to do until we truly need to do them. Were you taught that or did you just do it on instinct?"

"My Master taught it to me," Rogin said, thinking that it would make more sense than the truth.

"Who is your Master?" Matoke asked.

Rogin struggled for an answer, he knew that the Jedi order was large but he didn't know if all the Jedi knew each other. He took a gamble and made up a name.

"Master Motiff," he answered nervously.

"I don't think I've heard of him; must be one of the more reclusive ones. What planet do you live on?" Matoke asked him with a quizzical look.

Rogin exhaled a silent sigh of relief. "Yes we live on Cardooine," he said, naming a planet he had heard traders talking about before. "We don't make it to Coruscant much."

"That's a shame; I love it there. I can't wait to get back. Being surrounded by the relics of our past is inspiring. My Master is Master Dekroy."

The way the man said it, sitting up straight and with a dramatic pause, let Rogin know that the man's Master was a big deal. The young man acted as if the renown of his teacher made him more important by association.

Rogin did his best to look impressed, trying to convince the man he had heard of this Dekroy. The Padawan smiled, clearly happy with the recognition.

"So, what did your Master tell you about constructing a lightsaber?" Rogin asked, steering the conversation towards his goals. "Mine hardly told me anything; he told me part of the test was to figure it out for myself."

"Wow, so much for you being lucky. My Master told me almost everything: how to harvest the crystal, and what to look for in a crystal and how to put it all together. But what do you expect from a backwater Jedi, always clinging to tradition. No offence," he added quickly.

Rogin waved his hand to assure him none had been taken. "I know this may be a lot to ask, but would you mind teaching me a bit about building a lightsaber?" Rogin asked.

He hoped that he looked as weak as he felt, asking the fleshy human for advice after letting him save him. He was trying to play on the young man's obvious pride, letting him think he had done all this for someone so much larger and stronger than himself.

"Well, it may be a few hours before the storm passes, so I don't see why not," the Padawan said, smiling, happy to prove his dominance over the large but ultimately helpless man.

 **D** arth Millennial sat in his chamber, trying to meditate. The frustration and anger etched in his face would have told anyone that it wasn't going well. Every time he opened himself to the Force, every time he tried to forge a connection, the image of the large alien invaded his thoughts. It was blocking his connection to the Force. Normally, Darth Millennial's prophetic powers, enhanced by the mutation of his third eye, were even greater than his previous master's. The all-knowing Force had always chosen him to pour her gifts out upon. Now all he was being shown was the dark-scaled monster. He couldn't figure out who the man was. It clearly wasn't his old master, but the fact that he was somehow stopping his connection to the Force proved how dangerous he was. For some reason, he knew it couldn't be a Jedi; there was something swirling around the beast whenever Millennial saw him, a darkness and hate that Darth Millennial was familiar with. He had always relied heavily upon his knowledge of the future and now felt vulnerable in his confusion. If the Force would just push through this barrier, it would all be right again.

 **C** ognus awoke from her light, trance like sleep to the steady beeping coming from her console, announcing the oncoming end to her time in Hyperdrive. She looked over her ship quickly, making sure everything was in order before letting autopilot take her closer to the planet, giving her a few minutes of extra planning. She got out of her chair and shed her black robes and the light armor she wore underneath, replacing them with a pair of expensive but clearly worn business pants and a matching blouse that she had packed in advance. She put on an equally expensive but slightly baggy blazer atop her shirt and clipped one of her lightsabers to the holster on her back, jumping for a second as the cool metal touched her skin.

On the few times she had travelled to Coruscant before, she had worn the brown robes of the Jedi order, and she had kept one of her sabers prominently displayed. It was easy for her to produce an aura of light-side energy that could fool even the Jedi masters. This time, however, she was trying to get into a place the Jedi weren't accepted, the office of Senator Ston. So, instead, she dressed the part of a low-level Senatorial aide, one of the hundreds running around the capitol building from office to office, delivering messages between Senators. She clipped her laminated badge to her lapel. She had chosen to pretend to be an aide for a Senator named Ora Chgun; he was a high-level Senator who was an open supporter of Ston's bill. It would make sense for her to be bringing a message to Senator Ston's office and the security would be less likely to question an unknown face if it was from a different office. She would strike during the day, trading the shadows of night for the anonymity of the busy daytime. The last thing she had to deal with was her tattoos. While almost any race was the norm on Coruscant, her distinctive face tattoos would draw unwanted looks, especially in the professional capitol building. She took a small canister of clear cream and spread a thick coating over her tattoos. After just a few moments, the clear cream turned the colour of her surrounding skin and blocked out the tattoos.

She looked at herself in the mirror, always amused at how different she looked without them. She sat back down in the chair and took control of the ship again. The planet loomed over her as she entered its atmosphere; she quickly turned off the ship's artificial gravity and accepted the hailing of the dock crew. She relayed her fake ship certification and moved in to land.

She took one last quick glance at herself in the mirror; satisfied with her appearance, she stepped off the ship. She smiled to herself at the stark difference between the ports of Coruscant and Alkaroe. Coruscant was shiny and clean; the only smell swirling around the dock was that of the hot, oily fumes pouring the ship engines. The calls of merchants were replaced by the mechanical droning of protocol droids with their never-ending offers of assistance. Alkaroe was a planet without shame. It welcomed its visitors with its dirt and grime right out of the gate; they had no problem with the gladiator pits it based its economy around. Coruscant, on the other hand, thought it was supposed to be a shiny example to the rest of the Galaxy. It worked hard to hide its rot. They hid it under a flimsy layer of finely-polished durasteel and plastic. Deep down was the true Coruscant, the dirty underbelly that Cognus had always been more accustomed to. Today, she reminded herself, dusting off her blouse, she was one of them, just another small speck of shine.

 **R** ogin entered the small cave a few steps behind Matoke, always worried that his ploy would be exposed. Matoke turned to face him and Rogin stiffened for half a second before he saw the relaxed expression on the human's blotchy face.

"I think we should separate here," Matoke mumbled after a few seconds of strained silence. "My master says that this is a very personal time. The harvesting of the crystal and construction of your lightsaber should be done alone, a time with only you and the Force."

Rogin nodded; he was confident that he had absorbed enough from Matoke to construct his own saber. The young man had said that bringing the pieces together and activating the crystals required you to be "pure within," but Rogin was pretty sure that was just lies Jedi told their Padawans. After all Darth Cognus had created one somehow and he was pretty sure she was far from pure. He held out his hand and gave Matoke another limp handshake and then they headed down separate ways on the forked path. He pulled the heavy cloak Matoke had given him tight; even out of the wind, the cold was uncomfortable. As they walked away from each other, Rogin marveled at the arrogance the young man had displayed, not at his own accomplishments which were next to non-existent, but at the accomplishments of his Master. He had spoken as if they were his own, a never-ending stream of stories: battles with Sith during the war, promotion to the rank of Master and a seat on the council at such a young age. Rogin couldn't even imagine how insufferable the man would be when he did something for himself, although he wasn't sure the man would ever be able to truly do anything for himself. It seemed he was content to stay focused on the accomplishments of his Master and would probably never find reason to strive for his own. Luckily, Rogin hadn't needed to fabricate stories about his fake Master; even if he had wanted to say something, it would have been almost impossible to get a word in.

He didn't have long to think about it because he quickly came to a grouping of crystals. There were a few of the small green crystals, but the majority of them were tall, light blue crystals that matched the colour of Darth Cognus' Lightsabers. He knelt down in front of a particularly large formation of crystals and searched in his bag for what he would need. In between his boastful ramblings, Matoke had managed to explain what each of the strange parts in his bag were for. He took out the largest hilt. It was a dark greyish-silver and was about five centimeters longer than the other hilts. It was strangely thin, but Rogin thought it was the only one that he would be able to grab with both hands. He opened it, placing the two halves on the ground, and took out the rest of the pieces out he would need.

 **C** ognus walked quickly to the capitol, looking down at the blank data pad she had brought along to complete her disguise of Senatorial aide. Even though most messages between Senators were sent electronically, Cognus knew that the most sensitive-messages were hand delivered.

Many secret dealings had been brought to the public eye by a clever hacker. An up-and-coming Senator pushing such a controversial bill would certainly be sending and receiving a few secret messages. A hand-delivered message from the office of his biggest supporter wouldn't be out of the ordinary. She looked up from her data pad, which she had been typing on aimlessly, to see the capitol looming high above her; she stood at the base and, looking straight up, still couldn't see the tip of the building. She looked back at her data pad and brought up the map of the building she had loaded onto it from her ship's computer. Her path to the senator's office had been chosen long ago and she was certain she had every turn memorized; she just liked to double check.

Finished with her cursory check, she pulled up a picture of her target, Senator Ston. He was a human. He had a strong, square jaw that ended in a pronounced bum chin. He had short, blond hair and a clean-shaven face. His blue soft blue eyes and charming smile had an unavoidable disarming effect; he was born to be a politician.

As she looked down, she used her peripherals to scan the crowd around the entrance to find someone who fit her needs. Even though she had the clothes and the badge, she still didn't have everything she needed to pass as a Senator's aide. Cognus had learned that as proof that a person had their faith and was under their employ, each high-ranking Senator gave their aides a unique signet ring. No one knew where it had started, but now any senator who wanted to be taken seriously had rings made for their most trusted employees. It wasn't an official identification, but any aide without one would surely be under suspicion.

After a few minutes of walking aimlessly while trying to look busy, she found what she needed, a female human wearing a golden ring embedded with a small red jewel. It was unlikely that it was in fact Senator Chgun's ring, but that hardly mattered. It was the same colour and that would be enough to fool the guards that would be posted outside Senator Ston's office. The woman was talking on her phone just outside the massive entrance, so Cognus milled around the building a little longer, waiting for her to go in. She didn't have to wait long before the woman angrily snapped her phone closed and stormed in. Cognus quickly followed after her, careful not to let her get too far ahead. The woman walked into the lift and Cognus rushed after her, squeezing in just at the doors started to close, and drawing an angry look from the woman. She was a tall, skinny human with brown skin and black hair tied up tightly in a bun. Annoyance and contempt were painted on her face as she went back to working on her data pad, her foot impatiently tapping.

"Excuse me," Cognus said, clearing her throat.

The woman sighed audibly and slowly lifted her head to look at Cognus. She widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows, but her mouth stayed tight and flat, as if she didn't have the energy, time, or care to invest her entire face in the conversation.

"You don't need that ring; I can have it," Darth Cognus commanded, using the Force to dominate the woman's mind. The woman's expression changed immediately to one of pleasant simplicity.

"I don't need this ring; you can have it," She replied in a monotone voice, slipping off her ring and placing it in Cognus' outstretched hand.

"You're going to leave work and stay home for the day," she told the woman, continuing to use the Force on the woman.

"I'm going to leave work and stay home for the day," she replied in the calm, faraway voice.

As she finished speaking the doors on the elevator opened and she immediately stepped off the elevator, moving as if she were in a daze.

When the lady realized what had happened and saw the report on the assassination, she would come forward with a story of how a Falleen woman had manipulated her using the Force into giving up her signet ring. This would lead to more accusations aimed at the Jedi who would be suspected of harbouring the assassin. By then, Cognus would be long gone.

With a grunt Cognus shoved the ring onto her pinky, forcing it slowly past the first knuckle and stopping there. She hoped this would still be convincing.

The doors opened again and she stepped off onto the padded red floors, her light footfalls not even making an indent in the thick, lush carpet. Some senators got a whole floor of the building to themselves and their aides, but a new Senator from a less important Mid-Rim world like Senator Ston would only have an office on this floor, one of many. She walked quickly down the hallway until she came to a dark brown door with Senator Ston's name imprinted in a sprawling, golden script.

She walked through the door, trying to look as if she were in a rush. She stopped at the two guards and showed her fake identification clipped to her chest.

"Message for Senator Ston from Senator Chgun, his eyes only," she said impatiently. The one guard took a look at her badge and nodded, moving aside to let her in. She entered a room much larger and more lavish than she had expected. It was a gigantic round office that backed onto a wall of windows overlooking the shining capitol of Coruscant. The entire room was a bustle of activity, people running back and forth, phones ringing and people furiously typing. She had been expecting a small office with a few assistants, not this expansive operation. It seemed that perhaps Senator Chgun's support was more than just political.

Her newfound worries at the amount of people were put to rest when she saw another wooden door to the back left with Ston's name on it in similar golden script. She walked towards the nearest desk, facing the door, assuming it to be the receptionist desk.

"A message for Senator Ston from Senator Chgun, his eyes only," she repeated, impatiently tapping her foot, looking at her data pad without making eye contact. The receptionist looked up at her with a fake smile, her eyes tired and bored. She saw her badge and waved her past. Cognus rushed to the senator's door, her excitement fueling her façade of prideful impatience. She knocked lightly at the door.

"Come in." Came a clear and sonorous voice from the other side of the door.

Cognus opened the door and was once again shocked by the extravagance afforded by such a young and, until recently, unimportant politician. Cognus had, of course researched her target before today.

His home world, Dagro, was an agri-world; a planet devoted one hundred percent to providing food to be used by other planets. Generally, Senators from agri-worlds were looked over because of the small population they represented compared to other planets. He came from a middle-class family of farmers and hadn't had any extremely high-paying jobs until becoming a Senator, so Cognus knew the money for all this luxury had come from an outside source.

Cognus had little time to consider the implications of this, however, as Senator Ston quickly looked up from his work to address her with a smile.

"Yes?" he asked. "What can I do for you?"

Cognus hadn't been expecting the kind and sincere tone that posed the questions. She had assumed that the Senator, like the rest of the people working at the Capitol, would think themselves too busy and too important to take the time to truly talk to someone. She had been planning to kill the man immediately but, seeing that he wasn't the run-of-the-mill politician, she was curious. She would, of course, still have to kill him to complete her mission, but she saw no reason why she couldn't learn a bit more about the man who had caused such a stir.

"A message for you from Senator Chgun," she replied.

As soon as she spoke Senator Chgun's name, a dark cloud came over the young man's face.

"What else does he need me to say?" he spat out, the kindness and genuine concern replaced with weariness and anger.

Cognus smirked inwardly as the pieces fell into place. The beautifully-worded papers, the moving speeches, even the bill itself, weren't Senator Ston's, they had all came from Senator Chgun. The older Senator had clearly known this would be a controversial bill and was unwilling to thrust the unflattering spotlight on himself. Instead, he had found a less important and naive Senator to do his bidding. A look around the opulent room was enough to tell her Senator Ston had been compensated well for his assistance in the scheme. His current tone and facial expression suggested he was now regretting the decision, but it was too late to back out. He was the face of this bill and there was nothing he could do to change it; even if he went back on his word and announced it was Senator Chgun's idea, he would be forever linked to the bill as well as the ensuing scandal. If he did indeed go back on his word, other Senators would never align with someone who had proved themselves so untrustworthy. Clearly, Cognus had been wrong; Senator Ston didn't have the cruel, cunning mind needed for politics.

She reached behind her back and wrapped her hand around the metal hilt of her lightsaber. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled it out and in the same move ignited it. Before the man's eyes could even widen with surprise, she had stabbed the it into his neck. The glowing blade pierced the base of his neck right above his chest, killing him immediately. She had her saber extinguished and returned it to the magnetic clip on her back before the body had even begun to slump forward.

Cognus turned around and cracked the door open, sliding through it to keep anyone from seeing in. Just as she was closing the door, she heard the soft thump as the late senator plopped onto his fine marble desk.

Even though she hadn't gotten the right man, Cognus knew she had still completed her mission. Senator Chgun would assume that the Jedi had killed his decoy, mistaking him for the source of the bill. His hatred for the Jedi would grow and, though he would almost certainly pull more Senators to his side in secret, but he would never act on it. He wouldn't be brave enough to test his luck with the Jedi again, especially now that no one would be foolish enough to be his patsy after what had just happened to Senator Ston. The hatred would boil beneath the surface, waiting for Cognus, or one of her successors, to release it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome**

 **8**

 **R** ogin awoke from his short sleep feeling refreshed. Then his eyes drifted over to the menacing pile of supplies he had chosen and immediately felt weary again.

He had been trying for hours to put the lightsaber together with no signs of progress. He just couldn't manipulate the tiny pieces all at once. It was too intricate and specific and he just didn't have the scope to attend to them all at once. He'd tried dredging up emotions as he had before but, without Darth Cognus around, he couldn't take all that power and transform it into greater focus and control.

In his short life Rogin had never known failure. Growing up on Barab 1, a planet that praised martial strength above all else, he had forced his way past every obstacle before him. He had lived alone in the jungle, relying on his strength and his skills to survive and, when he had been dragged out of the lonely forest, he'd never had a moment of doubt that he would defeat those standing in the way of his freedom. This feeling of failure wasn't something he was used to or comfortable with.

He shook off his artificial fatigue and tried to focus. He gathered the pieces together and tried to open himself up to the Dark side.

" **W** e have decided that you will return with Master Sifu to Alkaroe to find further information on the current location of this Force user," Master Sono announced to her.

The way he spoke, slightly strained and over-enunciated, made Kinsa think he didn't agree with the decision.

He shared a look with Grand Master Liftling and they both cast a sour glance at Master Sifu, confirming Kinsa's assumption.

Kinsa hid her smile as she bowed to the council. "Thank you, Masters. I appreciate the opportunity to correct my mistake." She turned to Master Sifu and bowed again.

"Thank you for allowing me to accompany you on this mission. When will we be leaving? she asked, an ounce of excitement inching into her voice.

The brown tattoos crisscrossing his face changed shape as Master Sifu smiled widely, showing his row of sharp white teeth.

"Patience, young Knight. Even I do not move so quickly. I have things to set in order before I leave. I'll contact you within the week to set up our departure."

Kinsa felt like she was a hot ember that had been doused in water. She no longer had to hide her smile. Of course they wouldn't be leaving soon. It would probably be at least two weeks before they left; by then all traces of Rogin would be long gone and they would just return to the temple as failures, acting as if nothing had ever happened. Even if they did somehow manage to catch him, he would have wreaked all kind of havoc by then.

 **I** t was becoming increasingly difficult to push away the cramping in his left leg. Rogin had been sitting cross-legged on the sharp stone floor of the cool cave for hours. Before him the many small pieces needed for his lightsaber - the focusing crystal, the hilt, the energy ring, the energy circuits and half a dozen other tiny pieces - floated around, suspended by his Force. This was as far as he had ever gotten; holding them like this had become easy, but still he was unable to put them all together. He started to think about Matoke and what he had said about needing to be pure, to be housing the Light side within you to create a lightsaber. This still made no sense to him; Darth Cognus had done it and he should be able to do anything a Light side Padawan could do, but perhaps there was some Dark side equivalent.

Already he had tried using his dark emotions, but that hadn't done anything for him. The words of Darth Cognus came to him; she had told him that, above all, sacrifice was the most important thing for a Sith, but what could Rogin sacrifice? He didn't believe he had anything. His home, his family, all his possession, he had left or lost all those long ago. All he had left were his time and his life, and he was more than willing to give those up. What was he holding onto?

Rogin didn't know if it was a vision from the Force or simply a thought from his own mind, but the image of him closing the eyes of the Zabrak on Alkaroe flashed into his mind. He saw it play out over and over, watching as if from someone in the stands rather than his perspective. Slowly the looping image faded away and Rogin was once again staring at the dozen, tiny, floating pieces.

"Why had he done that?" he asked himself

He'd had no love for the man; in fact, he disliked him, yet he had shown him that tiny but significant act of respect. It was because of his guilt over the way he had killed him, the way he'd tortured him for fun. That act was an attempt to convince himself that he was still good, despite his long history of evidence to the contrary. He'd done so much and killed so many, members of his own family even, and it all could have been avoided. If he'd simply been content to go be a normal Barabel, or if he'd taken either of the two opportunities to go with the Jedi, none of it would have happened. All those deaths and all the harm he'd ever caused had been choices he'd made. They weren't situations where he had no other options as he used to tell himself; it was all him.

The revelation sent Rogin's heart thumping. He hadn't given up his innocence - that had happened long ago; he'd given up his façade of innocence. He wanted to become an apprentice to a Dark Lord of the Sith; it was time he stopped pretending everything he did was forced on him. He made his own choices and many of those decisions had led to destroyed lives. He paused for a moment to figure out how he felt about this and what it meant to him. Part of him felt sad but a larger part of him was relieved; it was a large weight that he'd been forcing upon himself and now it was gone. Now that he had taken that step, into realizing what he truly was, he could stop pretending and trying to be something else. With the pressure of his lies gone, he could feel the Force circulating now; it was like he had been cutting off an extremity from blood and had just released it. Small tingles filled him as the Dark Force settled into place.

He focused in on the group of parts, still floating at eye level, and slowly but surely he manipulated the Force to bring them together. Maybe he was actually stronger because of his freeing revelation, or maybe he just thought he was, but either way it was working. As the pieces fell into proper arrangement Rogin's body shook with anticipation. He moved all the miniscule bits inside and fit the two halves of the hilt together. The metal tube was held together with his Force and he brought it close. He reached into the pack provided by Darth Cognus and brought his welder out. Moving slowly, he used it to fuse the two halves together, hoping he had everything in its proper order. He released his Force hold on the lightsaber and let it drop into his hands. He rolled it around in his hands for a while, nervous to test it out; this was the moment of truth. While he didn't know what would happen if he hadn't put it together correctly, he was pretty certain it wouldn't be good. He held the surprisingly light, thin hilt in his gigantic hands, his thumb hovering over the small, red activator. Before he could think about it too much he pressed down. He heard the signature snap-hiss and a brilliant blue blade of energy shot forth from the hilt. Rogin breathed a sigh of relief as he stared at his new weapon.

Rogin held the dangerous weapon away from him and stood to his feet, forcing his aching legs to obey his commands. He held the blade aloft, surprised at the strange weight. He supposed he knew in his head that the energy blade wouldn't weigh anything but it was still extremely unexpected. The light hilt felt heavy now in comparison to the weightlessness of the rest of it. He took a few practice swings and it felt even stranger than just holding it. He wasn't used to the weapon but he still had a couple days before Darth Cognus came back, he would get the hang of it by then.

 **D** arth Millennial looked over his vast empire and marveled at Darth Cognus' folly. His old master planned to send one man, an apprentice who didn't have the any true relationship with the Force, against his small army of loyal Force Acolytes. His New Brotherhood of Darkness would crush this would-be assassin into dust. This had always been a weakness of Cognus, one of many, holding to this foolish "Rule of Two": the belief that the Dark side is strongest when hosted in one being, as if the Dark side of the all-encompassing Force, was some finite pool and the more people who drank from it, the less everyone got. The all-knowing Force had chosen him to rebuild the Brotherhood of Darkness Darth Bane had so foolishly destroyed, a pair of deluded aliens could not stop his destiny. He almost laughed as he shook his head once more in dis-belief, the Force would now allow him to be defeated. How could his old Master not see this? He welcomed this foolish follower of Darth Cognus, welcomed him to his doom.

 **C** ognus took a deep breath as she stepped onto the cold planet, the icy fresh air shocking her lungs. She felt Rogin's presence but couldn't see him in the blinding white expanse. She wrapped her robe tighter around her small frame, trying to protect herself from the cold, whipping wind and waited for him to show. After about a minute she saw a tiny black dot in the sea of white trudging towards her. As he neared her she saw the lightsaber hilt in his hand, having nowhere to strap it to, and she allowed herself a small smile. As Rogin came closer she dropped her smile and hardened her face.

"Does it work?" she asked, practically yelling to compensate for the distance and the howling winds.

In response, Rogin simply activated the lightsaber, the bright, pale-blue blade shining. Darth Cognus reached out her hand and pulled the saber into her hands; she almost laughed aloud at the surprised face of her apprentice as she used the Force to pull it from his grasp. She inspected the saber, its blade was a darker blue than her own and the hilt was shorter and thinner, but it seemed to be in working order. She had a strange, dull feeling as she held the weapon. She didn't know what it meant so she simply ignored it; she could deal with it later.

By the time she was done inspecting the lightsaber Rogin was standing before her. She handed him his lightsaber back and gave him a nod of approval.

"Kneel," she commanded him, with a harsh whisper that cut through the wind.

Rogin quickly fell to his knees, the top of his head still reaching her chin. She ignited one of her lightsabers and held it lightly against the base of Rogin's neck, burning through his scales and into his flesh; this was the Sith's version of cutting off a Padawan braid.

"Wear this scar proudly," she said, pulling her robe down to reveal a similar scar that her Master had given to her a lifetime ago. "No longer are you a citizen of the Galaxy, no longer are you a Barabel, you are only Sith. You must be loyal only to the survival of the Sith. You may choose a new name if you wish, to signify this rebirth."

 **R** ogin thought on this for a moment. He was eager to give up his old life; he had nothing to hold onto and nothing he wanted to remember. Despite his desire to completely move past his old life, he couldn't think of a name. He thought about what else Darth Cognus had told him was important about being a Sith, cunning and patience more than physical strength, and he knew what his name would be.

"Namon," he declared confidently. Darth Cognus gave him a questioning look, asking silently for an explanation.

"In Barabel mythology Namon was the trickster god of wisdom and death; he is the patron of thieves and seen as an evil deity by my people. He briefly held the throne of the gods by tricking his older brother Sageet, the god of war and strength, and convincing other gods to turn on him."

Darth Cognus nodded her acceptance of the name. "Then fall away and die, Rogin the Barabel, and rise and be born, Namon, the last of the true Sith and heir to the legacy of Darth Bane."

Namon rose to his feet and felt truly reborn. He felt that he was rising above, transcending the grief and guilt, the petty emotions of his past.

"Come," Darth Cognus barked as she turned around, interrupting his thoughts. "It's time to begin your training." He used the Force to pull his saber into his outstretched hand, trying to show off his new proficiency in the Force since his revelation in the cave. He followed his Master onto the ship, and into his new life.

" **P** eace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free."

Namon's chest heaved, his body desperately trying to suck in oxygen. He was so tired and distracted he hardly registered the words. He was amazed and annoyed looking at Darth Cognus, breathing smoothly and hardly sweating at all. They had just completed a short but brutal training session and now it was a time for a lesson in Sith philosophy.

"This is the code of the Sith. Do you understand what it means?" Darth Cognus asked him.

Namon thought for a moment, trying to think of an answer and giving himself time to catch his breath.

"It means that we must follow the Force to be set free," he answered hesitantly, focusing on the last line of the code.

The Force was still extremely confusing to him. On Barab 1 he'd had no-one to talk to about the Force so he'd been forced to come up with his own theories. He'd thought it was just a tool, something that made him faster and stronger than those around him, mostly useful in a fight. Then when he'd "discovered" himself on that ice planet he still thought of it as a tool, just a more subtle one. In these last two weeks with Darth Cognus his views on the Force had been changed completely.

She'd taught him that the Force was more than just a tool or a weapon that only he possessed. It was a metaphysical thing that wove its way through everything in the Galaxy. It was expansive and infinite and could be drawn on by beings like him, beings with a greater connection to it. He'd also learned that, unlike what he'd been told before, there wasn't truly a Light or Dark side of the Force; there was simply freedom, the strength that came with it, and restraint. It wasn't like a switch that, once flipped, made a Force user was either Light or Dark; the Force was all-encompassing, Light and Dark not one or the other. When Force users said, "the Dark side" or "the Dark path", what they were in fact referring to was the entirety of the Force. The Sith accepted all of it while the Jedi feared and stayed away from the parts they saw as "evil", and thus were held in chains they had made for themselves.

"No," Darth Cognus responded firmly. "The Force is not a tool for you, but neither are you simply a tool to be used by the Force; that is not freedom. Only the weak and the foolish "pray" to the Force for guidance and follow after what their delusions tell them is its will. If you submit yourself to the Force, trusting in it fully and doing nothing for yourself you are not worthy to call yourself a Sith. It is up to you to forge your own destiny, not the Force, not your past, not even me."

Namon nodded, absorbing the information and trying to find a better answer.

"We are done for the day," Darth Cognus said suddenly, rising to her feet and giving him a quick bow. "We will speak about this tomorrow; have an answer for me by then."

Namon worked to hide his disappointment until Darth Cognus had left; he felt like he had failed by not thinking of the right answer fast enough. Failure was an emotion he was starting to get used to.

Namon grunted in frustration and pain as once again one of Darth Cognus' blades lightly touched against his scales, adding to his plethora of burns. He knew that Cognus wasn't even going half speed, yet he still couldn't keep her blades at bay for more than a minute at a time. It was all just so strange, the weightlessness of his blade and the confusing shape and capabilities of her weapons.

They were called Guard Shotos or Lightsaber Tonfas. The handles were longer than a normal lightsaber and they had a secondary handle that stuck out at a ninety degree angle, perpendicular to the rest of the weapon. She held this secondary handle and the actual blade ran backwards, parallel to her forearms, from just under her wrist to her elbow. She mostly used them defensively, to block strikes until she could get in close and do damage. By holding the secondary grip loosely she could swing the blade forward suddenly. She wore a thin Cortosis cuff on her forearms that protected her from the heat of the saber's blade. As if the strange weapon wasn't enough, both lightsabers had a secondary activation button on the hilt. When she pressed these the perpendicular handle became parallel to the blade and made them regular lightsabers with short blades, simply called a Shoto. This let her switch quickly between the different forms of lightsaber combat and move fluidly between offence and defence.

"You're too slow," Darth Cognus chastised him for what felt like the millionth time in the last month. "You put too much into the swing; you let me know where you're going to attack before you even move your arm. A lightsaber takes much less effort to swing than a sword. You need to use your strength to restrain the blade so as not to lose control, not to swing it like it's a great battle axe. Try again."

 **C** ognus sighed inwardly as Namon swung yet another painfully obvious strike. She brought up her arm to block and lashed out with her foot, kicking the back of his leg. He stumbled forward, off balance; she took a quick step forward and swung her saber forward, touching it lightly against his ribs. He had to quickly step back to avoid falling on top of her blade and almost fell to his back. Namon tried to hold his head high but Cognus could see his sadness at his continual failure.

Cognus herself was disappointed with his lack of progress with the lightsaber. In all other areas of the Force he was progressing rapidly, but not this. She had seen his skill in the gladiator pit and was surprised at how slowly he was adapting to this new combat. She had expected that he would have to work harder at the more subtle areas of the Force and would excel in this area, and yet it was the exact opposite.

"Again," she demanded, waiting for his next attack, she would need to find a solution.


	9. Chapter 9

**Questions/reviews/critiques always welcome**

 **9**

" **T** here is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force."

Kinsa had been repeating this over and over to herself for the last half an hour. The face staring at her through the glass seemed fuzzy and out of focus, somehow unrecognizable. The more she spoke it the more the words began to blur together. It was strange how when you said words, important words, over and over they started to sound strange, and started to lose their meaning.

It had been two months and she was still stuck in this temple while Rogin was surely out terrorizing the Galaxy. They were supposed to leave over a month ago but then the assassination had occurred. The whole senate and the Jedi Council was in an uproar and Kinsa barely got to talk to Master Sifu; and when she did, all she was ever told was that they couldn't go yet.

And so here she was, doing nothing and reciting a code from a cult she was slowly losing her belief in. As the words became fuzzy and the meaning drifted away, her faith was doing the same. Out loud she preached peace over passion to her reflection while a war was boiling in her spirit. She hated the thoughts that filled her mind, the crass words about the Masters and the pitiful order that she spoke in her head. At the same time, she hated that all she had were thoughts, that she'd stayed silent, from fear or shame; part of her believed she should be leading the separation movement among the young Jedi Knights. Instead she did nothing.

Most people in her position, a fully trained and highly experienced Knight, would have taken a Padawan at this point, but she couldn't. She couldn't bring a youngling up. She would either put on a mask and teach the young child something she herself didn't believe in, or she would lead an innocent child astray with her own confusion. Even if she'd wanted to take a Padawan before all this, she refused to do so until she dealt with the mess she had created. She saw now that this wasn't a priority to the council. After the war, after the tragedy and the loss, they were happy just to bury their heads in the sand and ignore and the signs.

Her lips stopped moving and the endless stream of words that had fallen below her conscious perception ceased without warning. Dealing with this problem, with the monster she'd made, was something she had to do, but it was clear she couldn't do it as a Jedi. She turned from the mirror in her small, sparse room and grabbed a large canvas bag from her closet. She stuffed it with her few belongings, moving quickly, trying to outrace the logical part of her brain.

Before she could finish, she heard a soft rap at her door. She froze immediately, like a child or a pet who'd gotten caught doing something they knew they shouldn't, her hand clutching the clothes at her feet and her head turned, staring hard at her door. She thought for a of couple seconds about hiding her bag but decided against it. She wouldn't sneak away in the night; she would inform the council of her decision and then find a way off Coruscant.

She opened the door to find Master Sifu; he looked over Kinsa's shoulder and grinned.

"Oh, so you've heard then?" he asked with a smile in his voice. "I'm glad you've started packing; I was afraid you wouldn't be ready by tomorrow."

"So the council has approved the mission?" Kinsa asked breathlessly.

"Of course," Master Sifu said. "Why else would you be packing?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Well, I'll see you in the morning, Jedi Knight Kinsa." He gave her a quick bow and left her alone again.

Kinsa didn't miss his emphasis on the word Jedi. She stood there, stunned for a moment, before turning back to finish packing. She was so much more confused now than she had been just a minute ago. She was excited to leave with Master Sifu of course, but she still felt ashamed. She had made the decision to leave the order and, just because she didn't have to follow through with it now, didn't mean the decision meant nothing.

 **N** amon feigned a light stab, then quickly stepped back and attempted to shoot off a quick stream of lightning at his Master. In the split second it took for him to produce the dark energy needed, Darth Cognus took a small jump forward and swung her arm up, the hilt of her Tonfa slamming into his jaw.

The blow snapped his head to the side and forced him into a stumbling retreat. He tensed up, preparing for the coming flurry of attacks. When he recovered from the attack enough to look for his Master, he was surprised to see her sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and her lightsabers lying extinguished beside her.

"Sit," she demanded in a cool, slow voice

Namon quickly sat down in front of her, nervous and curious at this unprecedented, sudden stop in their training.

"You need to think before you act even, no especially, in the heat of battle. You need to consider all the options, all the possible consequences, good and bad, of every option before you act. Many Force users, Sith and Jedi alike, rely too heavily on Force attacks without fully considering the consequences. You need to make sure that you have enough time to gather and release your Force before you attempt anything. If you split your focus for a second to draw on the Force and your opponent senses it, it could very well be the death of you."

She paused for a moment before speaking again.

"What do you know about my old Master?" she asked suddenly, seemingly changing her train of thought.

"Not very much. You've talked a lot about Darth Bane and his philosophy on the Sith, but not very much about Darth Zannah," replied Namon after thinking about it for a moment.

Darth Cognus nodded. "She was a Sith Sorcerer," she began slowly. "She could reach into a man's mind and flay it apart from a kilometer away, as if she were cutting into it with a vibroknife. She could reach into your soul, into depths you didn't even know were there, and dredge up your true fears until you were howling like an animal, begging for death. And yet I defeated her with ease. Do you know how?"

Namon thought about what he knew of his Master and her fighting style.

"You surprised her," he responded confidently, remembering that she had told him she used to be a famous assassin.

Often during her training she had surprised him, materializing suddenly out of thin air and striking out against him. He doubted even a powerful sorcerer could expect or plan for such an attack.

"You snuck up on her when she least expected it. Or you struck at her when she was sleeping. Or perhaps you poisoned her, or bribed someone she trusted to help you?"

Darth Cognus chuckled and shook her head. "Good, but no, none of those things. She knew my fighting style and so she was always prepared for a surprise attack. When an apprentice strikes out against their master they can't use tactics like poison and they cannot involve other people; it defeats the purpose. An apprentice must prove truly stronger, smarter and in all ways better than their master. If you slipped some poison into my food or hired some assassin to blow up my ship, then what? You would be the Lord of the Sith, but the Sith itself would be weaker. You would take an apprentice, but how would you teach them when you know so little? You must learn all you can from me and then defeat me; you must truly prove that you are my superior. So no, I did not defeat my Master in such a way. I used her confidence and arrogance against her."

Namon placed his saber on the floor and focused fully on his Master. He could tell the story he was about to hear, and the lesson it would teach, would be extremely important.

"I snuck up on her one day but I made very little effort to make myself undetectable; I wanted her to feel overconfident and underestimate me. So she attacked me and we battled for a few moments. I was better at lightsaber combat and, if we continued the battle, I would eventually defeat her. She was aware of that and I knew that she was. I knew she would be searching for an opportunity to release her sorcery on me, so I gave her one. I purposely over-extended a stab and had to jump back in order to avoid her counter attack. Once I had given her enough space I knew she would cast a spell. If she had chosen to cast a quick, simple spell it would have distracted me enough to give her time to strike me down. However, I knew she wouldn't want to end it like that. She was such a skilled sorcerer that her pride needed her to completely destroy me with her power, to give me a last display of what she could truly do before I died. So she took a step back and waved her hands in a manner I could never understand, and whispered something under her breath. But the moment she stepped back I threw one of my lightsabers at her. She used the Force to push it away but that interrupted the spell she was casting. Before she could start her ritual over again I jumped forward and drove my remaining lightsaber through her chest. Just like that, it was over. In a few minutes I had killed one of the few and certainly the most dangerous sorcerer in the Galaxy. So, if you ever have the chance to kill an enemy, do it. It may not be honourable or eloquent, but honour and eloquence means nothing to the dead."

Namon sat there silently, digesting the story and what it meant. Darth Cognus was sitting, staring at him, and Namon could tell she was waiting for him to say something.

"How did you know that she wouldn't just try and stun or daze you with something quick? How could you risk your life like that without being sure?" he asked finally.

Cognus smiled coolly. "We spent every moment together for ten years, I'm sure you'll know all the faults in me that I don't even see in myself by the time you feel you're ready to kill me."

Namon opened his eyes wide before quickly controlling his face. He knew that eventually he would have to challenge his Master, but it seemed strange to him that they would talk so openly about it. He could tell by her customary small, sly smile that Darth Cognus had seen his shock. There was still one part of the story that didn't sit well with Namon.

"I know it's important to survive for the good of the Sith, but isn't honour - how others see you - isn't that all that matters to the dead? A person's character is all that survives of them after they're gone," Namon said, gaining confidence as he spoke. "For example, Darth Bane: you speak of him in reverence long after he's gone. You teach me all the amazing things he's done and impart your respect for him onto me. But a cowardly man is never spoken of, or else in reference to their shame. All the dead have are the stories of their life, the songs of their bravery and whispers of their deeds." Namon finished off his speech, feeling very proud of his argument.

"Do the dead have eyes that they can read stories?" She responded harshly, deflating Namon quickly. "Do they have ears that they can enjoy a song or hear a whisper? Once you're dead nothing can matter to you. If remembered, good or bad, the dead can't hang around to find out which. Even when the Sith finally cast aside this veil of secrecy and defeat the Jedi, Darth Bane, the man who started us on this path won't care, because he's dead. Honour; the opinions of other, lesser beings, is a fool's prize. Don't do things with how other people will see it in mind, and especially don't do things thinking about how people will feel about it once you're dead. All that matters to a person is what they do while they're alive, so be sure to stay alive as long as you can."

She fixed Namon with a cold, knowing look. "And be sure that I will."

She stood up abruptly, bowed to him as she always did at the end of their training sessions and left the training room, going out through the stairs that led to the above-ground levels of their house.

Namon sat alone and tried to digest this new information. He had been raised his whole life to believe that what people said about him after he was dead and the way he changed the tribe after he was gone was the most important thing. Part of the reason he was so ashamed of his actions against his tribe was because of the warning stories that would be told about him to the younger children around the campfire. Now that it had been spelled out for him he saw how foolish it was. He had thought he was ready to set his old life behind but clearly he had been holding onto some of it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Critiques/questions/reviews always welcome**

 **10**

" **W** e need to return to Coruscant," Master Sifu said suddenly.

Kinsa whirled around to face Master Sifu who was sitting on a chair in the back of their ship.

"I'm sorry, I know you want to find this Rogin, but I just don't think it's possible. We've been searching for almost five months and we're no closer to finding him." He spoke in a soothing voice, clearly trying to keep Kinsa from freaking out.

"What are you talking about? How can we leave when we haven't found him yet? Who knows where he is or what he's doing?" Kinsa practically yelled at him.

As she raised her voice she realized she was losing her cool and over-reacting, but couldn't stop herself.

"Exactly," Master Sifu said quietly but fiercely. "No one knows where he is. Our travelling around on this ship, grasping at straws and following after rumours and lies isn't doing anyone any good. We need to return to Coruscant; we're useless here."

"No more useless then we are back at the temple," Kinsa blurted out before she could think.

Master Sifu nodded knowingly and waited for her to recover from her outburst.

"I'm sorry Master Sifu, I didn't mean that. I'm, I'm just frustrated is all." Kinsa backpedalled quickly.

"It's okay Kinsa, I've known for some time how you felt and I've been waiting for you to bring it up. Feel no shame and don't worry, this will stay between us. Speak freely with me about what's upsetting you."

Master Sifu motioned for Kinsa to sit down. "Try your best to keep your emotions out of it."

Kinsa sat down and took a deep breath, slowly letting the air fall from her nose and letting her emotions drain out of her.

"I feel useless in the temple; I don't see the point of the Jedi if all we do is stay on Coruscant. And not only do we stay on one planet but we stay in the shiny upper crust of the planet, not even trying to help all the people we share the planet with. I know that some Jedi, especially the Sentinels, help out on other planets but the majority of us don't. I became a Sentinel so I could I go out and help the Galaxy, but I ended up recruiting and feeling just as useless. I felt like I was just recruiting for something I don't fully believe in. Jedi are just begetting more Jedi but we're not doing anything to help anyone. Just because the Sith are all gone doesn't mean that all evil in the Galaxy has magically disappeared; I'm sure there are things out there that we can do. The reason all the young Jedi are thinking of leaving the order is because we're all disillusioned and restless. We grew up on the stories of the glorious Jedi, fighting back the Sith, the first line of defence for the rest of the Galaxy. Then we were proud when we were chosen to be a part of it, but now we want to do something. We've been born with this amazing gift and given this wonderful training and now we want to give back to the Galaxy, but we feel the order is holding us back. So I don't want to go back to Coruscant because at least here we're trying to do something."

Kinsa looked down at her feet, not wanting to see the judging look on Master Sifu's face. She felt ashamed now that she had spoken her thoughts aloud to another person. She had been thinking about this for a long time but, now that she had vocalized it, she felt terrible, like she had betrayed the order. She had never participated in the discussion with the other young Jedi and so this was the first time she had talked about this to anybody, and it was to a Master on the Jedi Council.

"I understand, Kinsa. It is not only the young knights who think this order isn't doing everything right," Master Sifu replied slowly.

Kinsa looked up, shocked at what Master Sifu had said. Master Sifu continued, speaking softly with a faraway voice.

"Only a fool follows something blindly. The Galaxy is changing but the Jedi aren't changing with it. Too many of us cling to the past, to the traditions of the ones who came before us. I know the order is flawed but I urge you not to leave. If the people like you, the ones who see we need to change and have the ability to affect change, leave, then how can the order ever get better? The older Knights and the Masters would be angry at what they saw as a betrayal and would take it out on the new Padawans and the Knights who stayed. They would be even harder and stricter on them, trying to keep them from ever rebelling. Then there would be two factions of the light side. One would be rigid and old-fashioned, without creativity and, some would say, without purpose. The other would be young and wild, without the wisdom or guidance of the elders. The two groups would grow further apart, generation after generation, until eventually they were at odds with each other. It would no longer be Jedi against Sith but rather two groups, neither right nor wrong, but fighting each other. The Jedi gain strength from their unity; that's why we've always been able to defeat the Sith. The Dark side lends itself to individual power and so they were constantly fighting, backstabbing, arguing, and betraying each other. The Jedi may have arguments as well but we can't fall apart like them. We need each other if the Jedi are to grow and evolve while still remaining in the light side." He finished his speech and stood up from the couch.

"I'm going to leave you so you can think about it."

Kinsa sat in silence as Master Sifu entered the cockpit and closed the door.

 **N** amon blew a deep sigh as the warm water shot from the showerhead, falling onto his head and running down through the cracks in his scales. He stayed for a few seconds, taking a moment to relax and just be still. His flesh gave a soothing, shuddering ripple as the temperature of his body shifted, matching that of the water rolling off him and pooling at his feet. His training session had just ended an hour ago, his muscles were worn and tired, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be standing before his legs turned to jelly. As usual he'd done terribly. His black scales were covered in scratches and burns, from falling to the stone floor and being tapped painfully by his Master's lightsabers. With a arching stretch of his tired back he shook himself from his stupor, grabbing the metal bristle on the shelf. As he started scraping his scales, cleaning away the grime and buffing away scuffs, he heard Darth Cognus' music floating through the house.

He had a small grin as Corellian jazz continued, he imagined his Master listening to the smooth but unbelievably loud song played. He wondered what she did while listening to the blaring music. Perhaps she just sat quietly in her room, using the deafening noise to block out her thoughts, emptying her to give her a stronger connection to the Force. He liked to think however that she danced about in her large room, swaying back and forth to the sounds. His grin grew into a chuckle as he played the scene out in his mind, perhaps on the day he challenged her he would make sure he did it during this time, so he got the chance to see what she was really doing before their partnership came to an end.

 **D** arth Millennial pounded his fists against the wall of his meditation chamber, his rage blocking out the pain as his skin shredded against the rough stone. It had been months and still he had nothing; the Force was silent to him. Reality slowly began piercing his veil of fury and his hands throbbed with pain. His ragged, short breaths slowed down and he came back to himself.

He looked down at his bloody, torn hands in anger and frustration. This wasn't the first time since he had gotten his vision, or lack of vision, that he had lost control. Using the Force to compartmentalize and push away the pain, he thought about the larger problem. Perhaps the Force had turned away from him because of something he had done wrong, or more likely something one of his followers had done. There had to be some way he could regain his gift, something he could do, or give.

 **N** amon sat with his large legs painfully crossed, alone in the cold, dank training room. He stared at his extinguished lightsaber, about an arm's length away. He was waiting for Darth Cognus to return, waiting for another miserable failure. It had been well over a year since he had constructed his lightsaber and yet he still couldn't control it fully. It simply didn't feel right; he felt no connection with the strange, weightless weapon. He had become a devastating practitioner of the Dark side: he could command storms of lightning, he could lift hundreds of holograms with a mere thought, he could make the Dark side manifest in a crushing wave that would overwhelm a person and devastate them emotionally and mentally. He had become extremely proficient at augmenting his body to be faster, stronger and tougher in battle. Yet despite all this he failed at the seemingly basic task of lightsaber combat.

"I have a mission for you," Darth Cognus told him suddenly.

Namon got to his feet and whirled around. He hadn't even heard or sensed her coming.

"Yes Master?" Namon replied, covering his surprise.

"I've learned of an ancient Sith artifact on the planet Vorass on the borders of the Outer-rim. I need you to go there and retrieve it for me. This is your first true test. It is a mysterious and deadly planet. There are many vicious animals roaming the planet and the artifact itself is guarded by a large group of cultists. This cult that protects the artifact is almost as ancient as the Sith themselves. Generation after generation have been born and died there with the sole purpose of protecting the artifact from people like you. Their members have no connection to the Force, but they are experts in martial combat and not to be underestimated."

In his head, Namon was worried about his chances against the animals and the cult if all he had was the lightsaber he was still so sloppy with. Before he could voice his worry, Darth Cognus spoke again.

"I know your thoughts, my apprentice, but cease your worrying. Even without your lightsaber you have become an impressive and capable vessel of the Force," she said, speaking in a warm voice Namon wasn't accustomed to hearing.

"However, I encourage you to use your lightsaber as much as possible on this mission; see if you can learn to use it in action. If not, then when you return we'll find you another weapon to use."

 **C** ognus could see excitement flickering in Namon's eyes at the mention of receiving a new weapon. Although he had advanced rapidly in his training of the Force, his skills with the traditional Sith weapon had continued to lag far behind. As time went on and still all he could master were the most basic moves, she had started worrying that perhaps she had once again chosen the wrong apprentice. After all, how could he one day lead the Sith if he couldn't learn enough to train his own apprentice, or, for that matter, how would he ever defeat her at all? While thinking seriously about the possibility of abandoning Namon as an apprentice, which of course would mean killing the young man she'd grown somewhat close to, upset her she had been thinking it was her only option.

Luckily she'd received a vision of her apprentice while pondering the dilemma. She saw him going to Vorass and receiving the artifact that would set him on the path to becoming a complete Sith. She, however, thought it best to keep the specifics of the artifact to herself.

"You will leave tomorrow. In your chamber, I've placed a data pad with information on Vorass, as well as supplies for your trip. This will be the last time we see each other before you return; good luck, my apprentice."

Cognus turned from her excited apprentice and walked to the narrow stairway. She left the dark stone room behind her as she entered the warm, upper levels. It would be strange not having Namon around for however long it took him to complete the mission. She'd spent the last year and a half or so spending the majority of her time training him; she'd need to find something to do with her time now.

 **K** insa spun to the left, circling to the outside of the blue blade aimed for her chest. As she spun she brought her right arm up, letting her elbow connect with her opponent's jaw. The man staggered back and Kinsa pushed her advantage. Still with her back to the man from her spin, she used her strong legs to propel her into a back flip. As she sailed over him, she brought a quick strike down on his head. Her opponent brought his blade up just in time to block and Kinsa landed behind him. She quickly stabbed at the man's back, determined not to lose her advantage. She was astonished when the man pivoted sideways, without even being able to see the lightsaber, faster than Kinsa would have thought possible. He brought his free hand down on her wrist, forcing Kinsa to drop her saber to the ground. She felt no fear or anger as she heard her lightsaber extinguish and clatter to the ground, only shame and disappointment. She looked into the eyes of her victorious opponent, and they smiled.

"Well done, Kinsa." Battle Master Raddar praised her, gasping for breath as he placed his lightsaber back on his hip. He used his robe to wipe the sweat off his face. "The attack from the air was completely unexpected." He continued between breaths. "You will make an excellent Shadow; I have no doubt about it."

"Thank you, Master Raddar," Kinsa replied, panting herself.

She knew she should be happy with her performance - she rarely ever got any sort of strike on the esteemed Battle Master - but she still couldn't help but be disappointed in her failure.

After Kinsa had been forced to return to Coruscant, she had chosen to change her path in the Jedi order. When she first became a Knight she had chosen to become a Sentinel, the smallest branch of the Jedi, the other two being the Guardians, whose lightsaber crystals were usually blue and who were more proficient at lightsaber combat than the Force, and Consulars. Recognized by their green lightsabers that they preferred to leave strapped to their belts, relying instead on Force abilities and diplomacy. The Sentinels blended the two together and relied as well on non-Force abilities such as hacking, demolitions, medicine and many others. Usually beings recruited later than the average date for a Jedi were the ones who became Sentinels, bringing their expertise from their past life and incorporating it into their work as a Jedi. Sentinels often got the jobs other Jedi couldn't do or did not want to do. They were the ones that spent the most time away from the temple, preferring to use and hone their skills to help the Galaxy. This is why Kinsa had chosen to be a Sentinel, wanting to explore and help the Galaxy rather than stay in the temple. However, because she was so untrained, the only position she was qualified to occupy was that of a recruiter. Since her time back on Coruscant, almost a year, she had been training in all aspects of the Force in an attempt to acquire a different position. Just a week ago, based on her performance and a recommendation from Battle Master Raddar, she had been accepted as a candidate to become a Jedi Shadow and Kinsa couldn't be more relieved. Sentinels were the smallest class of the Jedi and the Shadows the smallest sect of the Sentinels. Only the leaders of the Shadows knew how many members there were; not even the Jedi council was privy to that number. Most other Jedi knew almost nothing about the greyer side of the Jedi order. Jedi Shadows travelled the Galaxy, following up on whispers of Dark side activity. Just because the Sith had been destroyed didn't mean the Dark side had disappeared. Cults formed on distant planets and, if the Jedi weren't careful any one of them could easily grow in numbers and strength until it was akin to the Sith.

Being a recruiter for years, Kinsa was adept at searching for signs of the Force in people and she believed she was well suited for the position. As a bonus, if Rogin would be found anywhere it would almost certainly be in some unknown Dark side cult.

 **D** arth Millennial lifted his apprentice's body in the air and used the Force to reach into the chest of his squirming follower, wrapping around his heart with an invisible claw and tearing it out. Holding the male acolyte in the air he let the heart drop to the floor of the sacrificial room he'd had his disciples build only a couple of months ago. He watched the blood drain out of the hole in the dead apprentice's chest. He pushed the small body into the roaring fire and let it be taken by the flames. The blaze expanded quickly as it accepted the body and Darth Millenial stood strong as the heat singed his face. Dressed in elabourate and heavy ceremonial robes, he had started sweating uncomfortably a long time ago, but he bore it all. He brought the fresh heart into his outstretched hand and turned, holding it out to the crowd of terrified disciples. They stared up at him with a mix of fear and nervous excitement in their eyes. They all feared to be next, yet they all yearned to be next. To be a part of his new mission, to give their lives up to fully serve him and the Force, it was their deepest desire.

He had finally found the solution: the Force had become upset with her champion and had turned away from him. So he would sacrifice his acolytes until he received a more specific vision. He reached out with the Force and grabbed another of his loyal followers. The crowd around her gasped with envy as she was brought forward, being pulled by the unseen strands of the Force. As she neared him her thrashings stopped as tears of joy streamed slowly down her face. Tonight he would surely get a full vision; the Mistress would no doubt be appeased.

 **T** here is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no fear; there is power. I am the heart of the Force. I am the revealing fire of light. I am the mystery of darkness. In balance with chaos and harmony. Immortal in the Force.

For what had to be the dozenth time Kinsa looked over her shoulder, afraid that someone would catch her. The Jedi archives were particularly busy and even though the section detailing the history of the order was one of the more sparsely populated ones there were still enough people walking by to worry her. Even though what she was doing wasn't wrong she still felt like a child sneaking treats, worried her parents would catch her in the act.

She was sent to this branch of the archives to research how the Sith had formed. It was supposed to help her understand the dangers of letting Dark side users gather together uncontested. She had been surprised to learn that the dark order had actually been founded by former Jedi. This group had started following the Dark side then launched a war against their former colleagues, a war that raged for a Century, one that spawned dark rituals and twisted creatures. In the end these Dark Jedi had lost and been exiled by the victors. After leaving Republic space these men and women had found the unbelievably ancient Sith, a red skinned species that had gone extinct long before Kinsa was born. When these Dark Jedi intermingled with the evil, Force sensitive species they shared their knowledge in the Dark side, interbreeding until they became one group. She found it strange and curious that after all these years as a Jedi she was only now learning how their ancient enemies had been formed.

Interested in learning what else she hadn't been taught about the history of the two orders she had kept digging. This is how she'd come across the Je'daii Order and their Code. The Je'daii had been a group of Force sensitives that had been formed on Tython. The group had followed neither the light or dark side of the Force, called at that time Ashla and Bogan. They were named after the two moons of the planet, one of which was bathed in light and the other covered in darkness. These early Force users had made maintaining the balance between both sides of the Force their highest priority. In fact if they felt a member of their order had strayed too far to one side or the other then they were sent to the opposite moon to meditate until they had found their center.

This peace and balance had ended drastically in an event called the Force Wars. The one side held Ashla as the greatest good in the Galaxy while the other believed that only Bogan could give them the power needed to effect the Galaxy. The battle raged on between the two sides until the followers of Ashla emerged as the victors. They had fled from the ruins of their order and the corpses of those they had called friends and became the Jedi Order. Not long after that they joined the slowly growing Republic as its protectors and guiders.

More even than the formation of the Sith she was shocked that the Jedi weren't taught this story as Padawans. The fact that their ancestors worked for centuries to ensure that their order never strayed too far into the Light or Dark seemed extremely significant. She looked around quickly to ensure no one was watching her before going back to her reading, she would find out more about where the Jedi came from.

 **N** amon awoke early in the morning, knowing without looking that it was 0600. He had stayed up late studying up on Vorass. He had started with its current inhabitants but had quickly become more interested in the famous Sith Lord who had been born there, Darth Simus. The man had been a pureblood Sith, the red-skinned, long extinct species that had been fighting with the Force long before the Jedi or Sith order had started their deadly feud. He had been a great warrior of the ancient Sith order until a rival Sith Lord had beheaded him. Using long-lost Sith magic he had survived, becoming just a head in stasis. Despite this obvious disadvantage he'd ascended to one of the highest positions of the Sith council and had trained one of the greatest Sith in history, Naga Sadow.

Apparently the planet he had been birthed on had been abandoned and was now overrun completely with forest and wild animals, with the exception of one small corner of the planet that had been cleared and protected by the "lifeless monks" as the cultists called themselves. The artifact would no doubt be in this corner, built around the apparent birthplace of Darth Simus. He knew how to get to the temple but there was no information on the interior; the cult immediately attacked anyone who came close to the temple.

So far, he had no concrete plan of how to get into the temple but, in these past years of training, he had come to trust fully in the Force and his ability to utilize it to adapt to any situation. Once he got to the planet, he was certain the Force would show him a way in.

" **T** hank you Master Farl," Kinsa said, bowing low. "I appreciate this opportunity; I will not disappoint."

"I'm sure you will not, Jedi Knight Kina Una. I, and the rest of the leaders of the Shadow, have complete faith in you. You've excelled at all the tests and passed all our expectations. You are already one of our greatest fighters, and I dare say, there are few Masters who rival your Force powers" Master Farl replied, beaming down on her from his high chair.

Kinsa had just received her first assignment. There was a small cult in the Mid-Rim that she was being sent to investigate. She had been ecstatic when she'd first gotten the assignment and now, after those words from Master Farl, she could barely contain herself. She was finally being given what she always wanted: a chance to prove herself, a chance to fight back the darkness and protect the Galaxy from the threat of an evil empire rising in the shadows.

 **N** amon stepped onto the planet, the soft, black grass giving in and folding under his massive foot. He felt a strange jolt that hit his feet and then travelled up his leg. It felt like a miniature wave of Dark energy sent from the blackened ground itself. He took another step and felt it again, a pulse of pain and energy sent forth from the ground in response to being trod upon. After a few more testing steps he grew more used to it; the pain faded away, but the feeling shooting up his leg was still there, registering just barely above his subconscious. He pushed away the feeling and turned to lock up his ship; the planet was supposed to be abandoned but there was no use taking any chances. He had landed in a large clearing of the forest, the closest he could get to the temple without being torn to shreds by their anti-aircraft defences. All around him the thick forest rose up and blocked his way, with the notable exception of a wide path that seemed to be heading towards the temple. He started down the path, hoping it really was leading to the temple; he didn't feel like pulling out his lightsaber and cutting his way through the forest.

Up until now he had been too focused on the pain of this new phenomenon to take in the majority of his surroundings. Now that he did, the thing that struck him most was the air, the essence around him. All around him he felt the Force flow. It felt like the air the moment before Sith lightning was produced. It was imbued with the Dark side and felt like it would burst at any moment. Every breath filled him up with the Force and made him feel heady; he had to control himself in order to stay focused in this dangerous environment.

A huge deep blue sun loomed over the planet, taking up the entire sky and casting the planet's surface in an almost purple hue. The vegetation itself was almost all black, from the soft, tall blades of grass to the monstrous trees that seemed somehow darker than the black shadows they cast. They looked like they were silhouettes at sunset or twisted, ghostly imitations rather than the actual thing. As Namon walked deeper into the forest, he noticed that almost none of them grew straight. Only the tallest of the towering timbers shot up in a straight line; all the other smaller saplings had twists and knots in their trunks and especially in their branches. As he looked around at the twisted woods, he noticed something even stranger.

As thick and tightly-packed as the forest was, none of the trees touched. No branch was hitting another branch or a trunk and none of the trees grew up together, eventually melding into one like often happens in a normal forest. Each and every tree was its own complete and contained individual. Some trunks were thin and squeezed between two larger trees, others twisted and turned as if they were avoiding some invisible barrier around the other trees. It seemed like the ones that had been established first had grown straight and forced the smaller ones to twist and turn to avoid the original trees.

So far, he had been walking on a path in the forest, clear of plants on both sides by at least a meter. He had thought it must be a path maintained by the cultists but now he remembered that they hardly ever left the temple and they certainly wouldn't want a path to lead strangers to the temple. He set this problem aside for a moment and walked off the path towards one of the massive trunks that shot straight up. He reached out with one hand and touched the bark.

Immediately a terrifying wave of pain blazed into him, tearing through his body. He dropped to the ground, lying supine on his back with the pain swirling and burning around his core. Then as suddenly as it came it evaporated, and he was left with the dull waves sent from the ground he was lying on.

No, not the ground, he realized, the grass. The vegetation of this planet, which had been drinking in the Force of its environment for millennia, had somehow adapted to use the Dark side as a defence mechanism. He slowly brought himself to his feet, his muscles still twitching from the Dark side energy that had just coursed through him. He returned quickly to the path, marveling once again at the Force presence at this planet. He had heard of non-sentient animals using the Dark side when submerged in a Force rich environment, but never of vegetation doing the same. He already had a lot to report back to his Master and he hadn't even come within view of the temple.

After about an hour of travelling the unnatural path in the unnatural forest on this unnatural planet, he felt something in the Force. Not the blanket Dark side energy that had been hovering around him since he landed, but a more specific signature. He stopped his slow jog for a moment and recognized it as the signature of a weak Force user. He stayed still and waited for it to approach him, not wanting to run into it without seeing what it was. Only a few seconds later, a bloodcurdling scream broke the thick silence and a large bipedal creature came crashing down on him from above, leaping down at him from a far tree. Before the animal could reach him, Namon gathered his Force and shot a ball of Dark energy at the animal. It hit the beast in the chest and sent it cart wheeling away. It landed in the middle of the path and quickly bounced to its feet. Without missing a beat, it came bearing down the path towards Namon, sending forth a screeching battle cry as it ran. He recognized the animal instantly from the information he had read the night before.

It was called a Yarin. It stood just over a meter and a half tall but was extremely slender. It had incredibly long legs and arms with a disproportionately short torso. It was covered with long yellow fur, making it seem much larger than it was. According to what he had read, it was a herbivore; the lack of teeth in its open, growling mouth confirmed it. Even though it wasn't a hunter, it was still extremely dangerous. It was very territorial and attacked any animals that entered its zone, including other members of its own species. It had long talons it used for digging at the end of its long arms. Apparently, the ground where the animal made its home was poisonous to most species and, as a result of digging through the poisonous soil, its claws were said to cause you to fall into a deep sleep if it cut through the skin.

Namon, not wanting to give the dangerous animal a chance to get close, shot off a stream of Sith lightning at the charging beast. He was pleasantly surprised at the devastating storm he conjured without even trying. It spread out from his hand and filled his entire view with bright blue tendrils of electricity. He was even more surprised, however, when the Yarin emerged from the wall of crackling energy, unfazed and sprinting towards him. Namon immediately stopped channeling the lightning and jumped backwards, trying to get out of the creature's reach. As he jumped back, the Yarin lashed out with one of his long, spindly arms and struck him hard on the shoulder. Namon was still in the air and the forceful blow knocked him off balance; he spun and landed hard on his stomach. As he slammed to the ground, a sharp jolt of pain shot up at him from the ground. As he jumped up to defend himself from the next attack, he noticed that the animal was just sitting still on the dark grass, waiting patiently. Namon took a step forward before he understood. Every time this animal had hit something it had been knocked unconscious from the poison. It had become trained by instinct to wait for his victim to drop unconscious. Luckily Namon's scales had protected him from the Yarin's sharp claws. He slumped back to the ground and waited until the beast came to dispatch its helpless victim.

The Yarin rose to his feet and slowly walked towards Namon, still slightly cautious. Namon kept his eyes closed but used the Force to sense where the Yarin was. Once he came within a meter of him Namon gripped his lightsaber tightly with his right hand and placed his left hand on the forest floor. He Force pushed with his left hand and used it to spin him around, launching him to his feet. He drew his lightsaber as he spun to face the animal and swiped at its short torso. Once again, he was surprised by the strange creature as it jumped back, easily avoiding his slash. Instead of chasing after him, Namon simply sent his saber out, flipping end over end towards the retreating Yarin. Namon breathed a sigh of relief as the glowing blade plunged itself into the beast's chest. He reached out his hand and Force pulled his lightsaber back and placed it onto his belt.

He walked past the body, splayed out along the cleared path and worked out the confusing encounter. He assumed he was able to produce such a great volume of Dark power because of the Dark Force saturating the atmosphere, similar to how he felt more empowered by being around a stronger Force user like Darth Cognus.

The Yarin brushing off his lightning was slightly more complicated. Though it was rare, he knew there were multiple species, both sentient and non-sentient, in the Galaxy that had developed a natural Force resistance. It made sense for the creatures of Vorass to be one of them after living for thousands of years a planet saturated in the Dark side; he just didn't know why he hadn't read any information about it. He considered the possibility that his Master had kept the information from him to challenge him; it certainly seemed like something Darth Cognus would do. It was more likely however that the few people who had come to the planet and survived hadn't been Force sensitives.

The other mystery was the specifics of the animal's Force resistance. When he had used the Force to simply push the animal away, it had worked, yet the amazing amount of electricity that had gone through it seemed to have no effect whatsoever. He'd heard about species that were resistant to mind persuasion, mind reading, and even some that were resistant to all aspects of the Force, but he'd never read about a species that was specifically resistant to lightning. The more he thought about it, the more he believed it was a result of the strange vegetation. When he had touched the tree, the pain had been similar to the feeling of Darth Cognus' Force lightning. Because the animal was a herbivore and apparently travelled in the trees, it must have evolved a resistance to the Force defences of the planet. Namon imagined that it had almost been an evolutionary battle spurred on by the Force: the vegetation evolving Force defences, then the animals evolving resistance to it, then the plant's defences becoming even stronger and the animal's resistance responding in kind, until now the trees released a paralyzing devastating attack at being touched and the animals shrugged off the most potent lightning attacks. This planet was much more dangerous than he had expected.


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you **Colbyshere2008** for the review and thanks to all who are taking the time to read it. **Questions/Critiques/Reviews welcome.**

I only uploaded one chapter last time because it was a massive one, but we're back to normal now, two chapters every other day.

 **11**

 **K** insa stood completely still, staring down the large woman in front of her, waiting for her to make a move. Twenty-five or thirty students, ranging in age from three to what looked like sixty, stood in a circle around them. They chanted steadily in a language that Kinsa didn't recognize, stomping their feet into the dirt floor, lending the warm room a tense, ominous feel. Kinsa studied her supposed opponent. The human woman looked to be about forty. She was the same height as Kinsa but outweighed her by at least forty kilograms. Her brown, thinning hair hung down to her shoulders, slightly obscuring her clammy face. She was dressed in a ratty, brown robe, similar to the traditional Jedi robe. This woman, this cult leader, carried only the faintest whisper of the Force and Kinsa could see she knew it. Fear was etched on her pudgy, pale face. She clearly didn't relish the idea of facing a fully-trained Jedi.

Kinsa understood this woman's predicament. She didn't want to die, but at the same time, if she simply surrendered, she would become weak in the eyes of this cult that had built her into a god. Kinsa harboured no qualms about slaying this woman, the leader of the "Dark World" as she called it. She had swayed the minds of these innocent Force users and, in Kinsa's opinion, she should be punished for it. However, she was a Jedi, and she had to give this woman a chance.

Moving slowly, she moved her hand from where it hovered over her lightsaber hilt and opened her hands in a sign of peace. She took slow, measured steps toward the Cult leader.

"If you surrender now you will be a prisoner of the Jedi," she yelled, trying to be heard over the stomping and chanting.

It was obvious her words were having no effect on the determined if fearful woman. She turned from her and looked into the eyes of followers around her.

"You will be granted a fair trial. Any of your followers who surrender will be disarmed, separated and be set free under surveillance until such time as they are deemed no longer a threat."

As she spoke she felt something building behind her. She stopped addressing the crowd and turned once more to look at the woman. Her face had transitioned from a mask of fear and worry to anger and rage. Kinsa had tried to steal her loyal subjects out from under her; Kinsa knew what would happen next. The woman charged at her, pulling two short vibroswords from her back. Clearly this tiny cult didn't even have the means to obtain a lightsaber. As she closed the distance between them Kinsa, simply lifted one hand and released a wave of Force. As the energy moved forward, it picked up dirt along the hard packed floor, letting the invisible path of the Force be seen. It reached the charging woman and shredded through her paper-thin Force shield. She managed a quick grunt and shot backwards, punching a large hole in the dirt wall behind her.

Kinsa knew without checking that the woman was dead. She had almost certainly been pulverized from the Force push, never mind smashing through the wall. Kinsa looked around at the circle of cult members. They had stopped their chanting and now stood in stunned silence. The stillness was broken when one man, a middle-aged human, roared in outrage and charged. Spurred on by his action, the rest of the cult followed after him, most brandishing crude durasteel or aurdium weapons, some coming at her with only their bare hands.

Kinsa let out an exasperated sighed and grabbed for the weapon on her belt - not her lightsaber but a stun baton. It was a non-lethal Merr-Sonn 51-Z Stun baton, standard issue for all Jedi Sentinels. She ducked under the man's painfully slow stab and tapped him in the leg. He seized up and dropped to the floor. The crowd of people, varying in age, size, sex, and species, continued charging in on all sides. Kinsa moved quickly, understanding now why she had to advance her skills before becoming a Shadow. She said a silent thank you to Master Raddar as she instinctively ducked under a blade that she hadn't even seen. Luckily for her, the small size of the room and the lack of organization of their attack meant there were only ever a couple of cultists attacking her at once, the rest pushing from behind, trying to get at Kinsa through the mass of bodies. After only a few seconds, six people lay unconscious on the floor, being trampled by people eager to take their place. Kinsa knew she had to find a way to stop the battle. In their rushed charge, these people were harming themselves. Reckless, uncontrolled swings were hitting fellow combatants and unconscious comrades. There were already five severely injured, if not dead, beings that Kinsa could see. Kinsa knew she had to do something. She used the baton to slap away a knife that had almost slipped through her defences while she was lost in thought. Yet another reason she needed to end this fight; she could feel herself getting tired and knew she couldn't keep this up for much longer. She gathered up a small amount of Force and launched herself over the remaining horde towards the hole the body of the cult leader had created. She landed by the hole and dashed out of the makeshift dirt temple.

The dirt building was located in the middle of a chilly tundra, surrounded for kilometers by reddish dirt, the occasional dwarfed tree and tiny, malnourished shrubs. Cold winds swirled around her and quickly froze the thin layer of sweat that had formed from fighting in the warm, cramped space. As she waited for the untrained army to come after her, she gathered up her Force. After a couple of seconds the first of them slowly left the temple. Of the eighteen or so cult members that were left alive and conscious only fourteen exited the temple to pursue her. The group surrounded her in a semi-circle, all of them nervous to be the first to jump into a fight with her. Before any of them could build up the courage Kinsa released the Force energy she had been building.

Ever since she had been a Padawan under Master Rilth, and a young Knight fighting the mercenaries and soldiers of the Sith, she had been interested in Force stun. To be able to defeat an enemy without harming them seemed to her to be the perfect tactic of a Jedi Warrior. She had been training in the ability for most of her life, especially in the last year and a half. She focused in on every person before her, every angry and nervous face, and released her pent up power. As soon as she released the Force within her, she collapsed to the ground.

It felt as if the Force she had released had pulled her strength and energy out with it when it left her body. She lay there, with her face pressed against the cool dirt, for a few seconds before she could catch her breath and drag herself to her feet. As her blood circulated, bringing life back to her tired muscles she looked at the people frozen all around her, somewhat amazed and impressed at her own abilities. She left them behind and walked into the tiny dirt temple, she knew from experience they would remain frozen for ten minutes at the least. As she entered the temple he saw an old Cerean man, the wisps of hair atop his cone shaped head had long ago turned white. He surrounded by two young boys and a girl, the oldest looked to be about eight and the youngest could be no more than 3. The old man slowly started to bend to his knee, his shaking body and twisted face showing how painful it was for him. Kinsa reached out and pulled the man up before he could get to his knee. The elderly man nodded his thanks.

"I don't ask anything for myself," he began in a slow, raspy voice. "But these children didn't truly understand what was happening. These two," he said, gesturing to the youngest boy and girl, "They were born into this, and none of them had a choice to leave. I beg you to let them go free, or perhaps make them into Jedi like yourself," the man said, his voice croaking painfully.

Despite her exhaustion, Kinsa couldn't keep from smiling. She had just single-handedly defeated almost thirty Dark side followers and had rescued these Force sensitive children whose only crime was being born in the wrong place or being found by the wrong people. It felt good to be a Jedi today

 **N** amon had been travelling along the strange path for hours without another incident with the wildlife. He had been keeping track of his distance and, by now, alternating between a brisk walk and a slight jog, he guessed he was just under a kilometer away from his destination. He had seen the clearing in the distance when he had taken his ship down and he thought he would have hit it by now. Around every bend he expected to come to the large clearing around the temple, but the thick, black forest showed no signs of thinning.

After another five minutes of jogging, the forest suddenly ended without warning. He stood in the clearing he had been searching for, only a few meters away from a surprisingly high, durasteel wall. It looked strange, the dark blue light reflecting imperfectly off the shiny, metal surface of the massive wall. The thick trees had blocked it out and now he was shocked at the size of it. The wall extended to the left and right of him at least half a kilometer in each direction. It extended up at least ten meters above Namon's head. It was unfair to call this place a temple, it was a fortress.

As soon as he stepped into the small clearing towards the fortress, his mind was assaulted, his head pounded and he had to fight to stay on his feet. The Force was so present here it felt oppressive; it seemed to be attacking him. He staggered forward and tried to control himself as his mind slowly adjusted to the massive amounts of Force energy bombarding it. Before he could fully regain control of his faculties, a section of the metal wall slid open and a group of about twenty humans filed out of the fortress.

They all wore long, bright red robes that cast a stark contrast against the blue-black surrounding. They stood still and silent as if waiting for him to recover fully, instead of taking advantage of his obvious weakness. Building up barriers around his mind, he protected himself from the Darkness around him trying to get in and tear it apart. He stood up straight and waited with his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber, wanting them to make the first move.

He grew puzzled when, instead of drawing weapons, they began a strange chant. Namon recognized their speech as the Ancient language of the Sith species. After a few seconds Namon picked up on what they were saying.

"Live to protect, die to defend." The men and woman chanted these simple words over and over.

Namon became apprehensive as the chant grew louder and he felt the Force being drained from the ground and the air around him into the group of robed humans. It felt like an unnatural nexus of Dark Force that was being held above the group.

Suddenly the chanting stopped and they shot their hands out towards Namon. Twenty thin tendrils of red electricity came out and advanced towards him. Before reaching him they arced inwards to form one thick bolt of flaming lightning. After the trees and the Yarin he was no longer surprised by the inhabitants of this planet. He reached out and used the Force to redirect the current. He brought it into his hands and then split it apart, so the one stream became multiple thin tributaries. He used the Force to control the arcs, letting them flow all around him but containing them so they wouldn't fly out of his reach. He couldn't see past the blinding whirlwind of crackling red light, but he assumed the robed defenders wouldn't risk attacking him while he was surrounded by the deadly electricity. He conjured a Force shield, millimeters from his skin, to protect himself. As the storm flew around him he added his own lightning to it, his blue mixing with the human's red, letting the tempest grow in speed and size. He held back some of his fire, letting it build within him as the rushing tornado of electricity built on the outside.

Gritting his teeth, he held onto it for what seemed like ages, until the air around him and the flames inside him burned too hot for him to stand. He shot his Force forward, a broad wave of Dark side power carrying the colourful, crackling energy. It rolled over the group, the kinetic energy pushing them backwards and the lightning passing through and killing the entire group.

Namon walked confidently through the field of bodies, their robes covered with large, black burns, their bodies broken and twisted. He used the Force in the atmosphere around him to replenish the strength he had lost creating the Force storm. He walked up to the shining durasteel wall through which the dead cultists had exited, the section of the wall that had opened was now firmly back in place. He considered jumping over the high wall or trying to find another opening but chose a more direct approach. He ignited his lightsaber and shoved it through the wall, the hot blade easily melting the metal. With ease he traced a large hole in the wall and kicked it in, the massive slab of durasteel falling inward with a metallic groan.

He had been afraid it would be hard for him to navigate the fortress as he had never seen any blueprints of it but, as soon as he stepped through the hole he'd created, he saw that wouldn't be a problem.

From the outside it had looked like a miniature metal castle but now Namon saw the truth: it truly was just a large protective wall. There was nothing inside the four walls, nothing but a small, old, run-down wooden house that looked like it should have collapsed to dust a long time ago. Namon hadn't been able to find any information on the ancient Sith Lord's early life, but he assumed this had been the house that Darth Simus had grown up in. The cultists must have built these walls around the birthplace of the man they worshiped. Expecting the Force to grow even stronger in this small house, Namon built up his mind's Force defences, preparing for another invasive attack. Namon entered the house, bending his neck in order to fit under the low door frame. Surprisingly instead of the Force growing stronger as he squeezed into the tiny house, it seemed that the air was completely devoid of the Force. As he stood there, puzzled once again at the strange planet he felt his own Force being pulled away. It felt similar to when his Master used her confusing powers to dampen his ability to connect with the Force, but it wasn't exactly the same. Instead of just being dampened, his Force was being stolen from him.

The bare interior of the humble home matched the degrading exterior well. There was a small kitchen with a floor of packed, wet dirt, hardly bigger than the cockpit of a one-man star fighter. The only other room was equally small, Namon assumed it had been a bedroom, though there either never was a bed or else it had been removed. The bare, rundown interior along with the lack of Force and the dark rays filtering through the glassless window gave the house a decidedly creepy feel.

The only non-ancient looking thing in the house was a small, meter-high pedestal that looked to be made of ivory. Atop the pedestal was something large covered over by a piece of thick black cloth. He reached down and grabbed the corner of the covering, pulling it off slowly and revealing the beautiful artifact beneath.

His breath was stolen from him when he saw the treasure he had been sent for. It was a large broadsword sheathed in its scabbard. It had a surprisingly long, black hilt and a blood red pommel that was into the Sith symbol. It had a relatively small but sturdy cross guard; they were each about five centimeters long and slanted down, away from the pommel towards the blade. Without hesitation, he reached for the plain but beautiful hilt. As his fingers brushed against the metal he felt a small jolt and felt the sword reaching inside of him as if searching for Darkness within Namon to gorge itself on. At the same time, the Force within him grew; Namon felt it responding to this intrusion and the fires within him expanded. He gripped the hilt fully and pulled the sword from its black scabbard. It had a wide, diamond-shaped blade, coloured a mute dark grey, and still razor sharp after who knows how many years. The blade was long, though not as long as the hilt would suggest, and had a more gradual taper than most swords he'd used in the past, ending in an only slightly sharp point. It was clearly meant for hacking and slashing rather than stabbing. He was amazed at the weight of the blade; it seemed significantly heavier than it should be based on its size. Namon assumed it was made of some ancient, extremely heavy metal. He used both hands to heft it and was once again confused at the length of the hilt. Even using both hands to hold it, there was room for another hand on the hilt, and he had massive hands compared to most other species. He also found the sword wasn't properly balanced; the center of gravity or point of balance on the blade was about sixteen centimeters away from the hilt while, on a normal sword of this size it would be maybe six to eight centimeters away.

He bent low again and left the tiny house so he would have room to properly test the sword. He swung it around, going through a few basic sequences with it. The blade felt strange; it took him a while to get used to the strange balance. He tried holding it closer to the pommel of the hilt rather than the cross guard. It was clear after only a few moves that this was the way the sword was supposed to be held. He quickly found that it worked best with broad slashes rather than quick stabs. He swung it around, moving fluidly and letting the momentum build, the speed and the strength increasing with each slice. The strange point of balance and the long hilt made more sense to him now; it seemed to be built to utilize momentum. He went back into the hut and grabbed the scabbard; it was black with red scrawling letters, the colour perfectly matching the pommel. He studied the letters. They were written, as he expected, in the language of the ancient Sith. One of the first things Darth Cognus had made him learn was how to read, write and speak ancient Sith, so he had no trouble with these words.

 ** _Force Eater Consumer of Souls. The Blackest End "_**

It seemed this sword had a few names to choose from. He returned the blade to its scabbard and began his long jog back to the ship, a noticeable spring in his step.

" **B** ut they're just children." Kinsa pleaded, raising her voice to the tiny blue image.

She took a breath, reminding herself to remain in control of her emotions.

"How can you blame them for what they were involved in?" She asked, keeping her voice calm.

"We're not blaming or punishing them for the actions of the cult. But you must understand, they are simply too old and too…damaged to be trained. They were born into the Dark side and to try to train them now would be too much of a risk. I'm sorry, Kinsa, but they cannot become Jedi," Master Liftling told her, speaking in her slow, infuriatingly condescending voice.

"How can they be too old? The oldest is only seven and the other two are still toddlers. There are plenty of younglings who are older than that. I was older than that." She refused to give up on this.

"Yes, and look at the result," Master Liftling said after a pause, her voice cold and precise.

The words struck Kinsa like a slap in the face. She wanted to scream, to yell at the self-righteous "Master". Who was she to be judging Kinsa? Kinsa had just diffused a cult of almost thirty Dark siders; while all Master Liftling did was sit in the council room collecting dust. She wanted to rant, to show the woman her hypocrisy; instead, she angrily stabbed at her holo-communicator, cutting off transmission from Master Liftling. She knew if she exploded, if she showed her anger to Master Liftling, she would just be proving the woman's point for her.

 **N** amon walked briskly down the stairs to the training room, led by the sounds of swooshing lightsabers and the grunts of combat. He entered the large room to see his Master in a furious battle against opponents he couldn't see. He stood in awe as she moved, jumping and dodging with amazing speed and grace, a long and patient dance before striking suddenly with blinding speed and strength. As she moved, he began to visualize her opponents, she flipped over one and he saw her slice of line into its back.

After another minute of watching her battle, he noticed that her eyes were closed. She must be using the Force to cast illusions of these enemies only she could see. Namon knew from experience that Darth Cognus often created a copy of herself or another being that couldn't move in order to distract her opponent, but he hadn't known she could accomplish something this elabourate or long-lasting. It was something for him to keep in mind. Another thing for him to file away was the fact that she seemed unaware of his presence. With her eyes closed and her Force focused on creating and defeating these enemies, she could not see or detect him, certainly a fact to remember.

 **C** ognus chuckled to herself at the hopeful naiveté of her apprentice. As an Itochi she had a natural ability to peer into people's minds; this natural ability was extremely enhanced by her mastery of the Force. She was now able to read the basic thoughts of most beings, and her young apprentice was no exception. She could tell he thought that she didn't know he was there and he saw this as a weakness he could exploit. If he ever attempted to capitalize on this "weakness" he would be sorely disappointed.

 **A** fter a few minutes Namon sent out a wave of dark energy, not strong enough to physically affect his Master, but just to let her know he was there. Darth Cognus stopped mid-flip and fell to the ground, landing silently into a crouch. Standing slowly, she extinguished her sabers and opened her eyes. Namon held out his sword and bent to one knee before his Master.

"I found the artifact I was sent for," he said to her, straining to keep the elation out of his voice.

Cognus grabbed the hilt of the sword and pulled it out of the sheath.

"Humph, heavier than I would have expected."

She grabbed it with both hands and swung the sword around clumsily, clearly not used to such a large, heavy weapon.

"Certainly not a weapon for me," she said with a smirk. "But what about yourself?' she asked, holding the blade flat and extending the hilt out to him.

Even though he figured he was supposed to use the sword, he had tried to hold back his excitement, just in case. Now that he knew it was for sure, he couldn't help but smiling. He took the sword back and held it up.

"I feel more comfortable with it than I do with the lightsaber I created. But wouldn't this sword just break if it came into contact with a lightsaber?" he asked her, remembering how his old sword had reacted to the Jedi's lightsaber.

Darth Cognus shook her head. "Allow me to explain this weapon you have received. This sword was built thousands of years ago by its previous owner, Darth Simus. He was a proficient Sith alchemist and, when he created this blade, he mixed a complicated alloy with arcane magic, imbuing it with the ability to deflect blaster bolts and block lightsaber attacks. When you first held the sword did you feel it trying to suck the Force from you?"

Namon nodded, remembering how the room it inhabited had felt devoid of the Force in comparison to the rest of the planet.

"That," she continued. "is because weapons such as these are hungry. They demand to be fed with the Dark side, with passion and rage. However, similar to the orbalisk that inhabited Darth Bane, it gives back something as well. It feeds off your emotions, off your Dark Force, multiplies it and then returns it to you in a continual, amplifying circle until you and the blade become a nexus of the Dark side, the storm within and around you waiting to be released. It also grants you greater perception. You may not have noticed it yet but the sword has an ability to heighten your senses. This helps make up for its weight and reduced speed when compared to lightsabers. Another curious trait of the sword is its response to Force lightning. It absorbs any lightning and stores it until the blade hits something solid, including a lightsaber. Then the blade discharges the electrical energy it had been holding. Always keep this in mind: if you have a Force shield prepared and your enemy does not, it will give you the advantage. One word of warning to you: this blade calls out for the Dark side and produces a call that is almost impossible to mask. If you are ever in a situation where you feel the need to hide your Dark nature, this weapon will betray you."

Without explanation, she suddenly turned and jogged up the stairs. After a couple silent moments of waiting, she returned with arms full of scrolls, books and manuscripts.

"Here is all the information I could find on Sith swords. I suggest you read them all thoroughly before attempting to use the sword."

Namon grabbed all the information and retreated into his room, eager to learn all he could about his exotic, yet familiar, new weapon.

 **D** arth Millennial walked around, looking down at his small brood of loyal soldiers; its members were slowly shrinking. He only had about fifty members left, but they would be enough. He had stopped sacrificing his acolytes to the Force, trusting in his numbers to protect him when the Force had clearly abandoned him. He wasn't sure if this was simply a test or if the Force had truly chosen someone else, but, either way, he knew it wouldn't be solved by sacrificing apprentices.

 **T** hey were sitting across from each other, both staring hard at their food. They sat on opposite sides of a long, smooth, granite table, white with speckles of black and grey. Namon and his Master were eating slowly, in complete silence. This was their nighttime routine; after they had their second round of training they ate their dinner. At times Darth Cognus used this time to dole out another lesson in the intricacies of the Force or they made conversation, but so far this night they had sat in silence broken only by their forks scraping against the plates.

"Why did you leave?" Darth Cognus asked him suddenly, interrupting their quiet meal. "From what I know Barabels are fiercely loyal and almost never leave Barab 1, so what caused you to leave your people and start fighting?"

"It's a long story," Namon responded, shoving food into his mouth and trying to brush off the question.

"Well, we've got plenty of time," Darth Cognus replied, giving him a small smile; she clearly wasn't going to drop the subject.

Namon sighed and dropped his fork, letting it rest on his plate. He looked up to see his Master staring intently, waiting for the story.

"There is a Barabel legend from over three thousand years ago. A small group of Jedi warriors crashed into Barab 1 during a time of war between the three Barabel tribes. They resolved the agreement, thus stopping the war before it began. So now the Jedi and the Barabels have an agreement between them: every new generation of offspring is looked over by a Jedi recruiter and any Force sensitives are taken. In return, the Jedi continue to mediate between the three tribes. When my generation's time came, I was put in line to be examined with the rest of the people my age - I was four. The Jedi, an older human I remember, with dark brown skin and a large white beard, forced the children of all the forests to come together so he could go over them all at once. He walked slowly down the line of hatchlings, his eyes closed and his hand stretched out. As he neared me, I felt a sort of sickly revolting oppression radiating from the older man. I didn't know what it meant at the time, but I knew it wasn't something I liked, so I ran.

"I still don't know how no-one saw me leaving, or noticed that I was gone, but they didn't. By the time I came back, the tribes were separating and going back to their own caves. The Jedi had left along with a girl I had grown up with and another hatchlings from the Hoskarr tribe. On the long way back I heard some of the adults worrying that there had been a few less recruits than usual.

"So I grew up with this secret, never telling a soul, not even my family. As I got older I found I could do things other people couldn't, and I kept that secret too. Without any training, I practiced in secret, doing things over and over, levitating or pushing small objects, knowing what's around me even with my eyes closed, surviving falls that would kill anyone else. The more I did it the easier it became.

"Then one day when I was eighteen, I was in the forest, I was supposed to be hunting, but I was levitating a small rock. One of my brothers walked by and saw me. I tried to convince him to keep it a secret but he refused; he threatened to tell our fathers. I tried to stop him and things got heated. I knew if he told anyone I would either be sent to the Jedi or at the least kicked out of the tribe. The Barabel's hold the Jedi in very high esteem and, for me to do something like this would be considered a terrible betrayal. We drew our swords and fought. I was never trying to hurt him; I just didn't want to be found out. I easily managed to disarm him and I had him pinned to the ground with my sword at his chest, unsure of what to do. The sounds of our swords clashing had carried across the forest and, before I could make a decision, one of my fathers, along with two other elder tribesmen, came crashing through the forest. My father saw what was happening and drew his sword to protect my younger brother. We battled and he managed to overtake me; he gave me this." He pulled down his shirt and showed his Master his scar.

"As the blade cleaved through my scales and flesh, I fell into a rage. Blind and full of strength, I batted away his sword and drove my sword through his chest before I knew what I was doing. I froze with my sword stuck in his chest, anguish, regret and anger filling me immediately. The feelings within me exploded outward and knocked the remaining tribesmen back; they were all rendered unconscious. I knew what would happen if I was captured; it's seen as a great offence when a Barabel kills a member of their own tribe, and I'd killed my own father. So I took the body and ran. I slung him over my back and ran deeper into the forest, searching for a place to live. I found a small cave and I buried my father just beside the entrance. I stayed in that cave for almost a year before another Jedi recruiter came after me. She defeated me and offered to take me as her apprentice, the other option being sent to a prison planet. I accepted to become her apprentice, planning to find some way to escape. There was a shipment of slavers heading to Alkaroe to fight in the gladiator pits, so I snuck away from the Jedi and found my way onto the ship. And that's how I got off Barab 1 and that's how you found me." Namon finished his story and looked back down at his food.

Darth Cognus simply nodded a couple of times and they went back to eating in silence.


	12. Chapter 12

**Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome**

 **12**

 **T** here is no Dark side, nor Light side; there is only the Force. I will do what I must to keep the balance, as the balance is what keeps me together. There is no good without evil, nor evil without good. Evil must not be allowed to flourish and good must not be allowed to make us inhuman. There is Passion, yet peace; Serenity, yet emotion; Chaos, yet order. I am the wielder of the flame, the protector of balance. I am not afraid of emotions nor am I a slave to them. I am the keeper of the flame, soldier of balance. I am a Guardian of the Galaxy and all its inhabitants. I am a Grey Jedi.

Kinsa read these words with fevered excitement. There were some things she disagreed with in this doctrine yet she couldn't deny the almost magical pull she felt towards it. So many of these words seemed as if they had been copied right from her mind, as if she had written them herself.

She had come across the Code of the Grey Jedi while she was flying in her ship through hyperspace. After her disappointing talk with Master Liftling, she had started searching the net for other sects of the Jedi, historic variations that held to the basic doctrines of the Jedi, but had been condemned by the council for their different beliefs. Her idea was that if she could find and contact these groups the next time she found herself in a similar situation, with young, Force sensitive beings the Jedi wouldn't accept, she could send them there to be raised and trained. Or at the very least that's the reason she told herself she was doing it, a part of her she ignored insisted she was doing it for herself, and that it was dangerous.

As she dug deeper and deeper, always unsatisfied with what she found, she found herself getting further away from the basic tenets of the Jedi. As she was getting closer to what she believed she was shocked, and a bit worried, at how close she was coming to the doctrines of groups she had always considered followers of the Dark side: the Ember of Vahl, the Nightsisters, The pit, The Doomed and other organizations heavily influenced by the Dark side that she'd learned about during her time as a Jedi. Then, after a long and revealing search, she had come across this. The Grey Jedi were apparently a faction within the Jedi order that existed a couple of hundred years before the battle of Russan. They had been a part of the order but had acted somewhat independently of the Jedi council, using Force powers that were considered "Dark side" and using other methods that were condemned by the Jedi council. No matter how hard she looked, Kinsa couldn't find any conclusive information on what had happened to them. There were conflicting reports, some which said they'd left or were forced to leave the order and had formed their own organization. She'd read others that claimed they still existed within the Jedi but had just become less vocal as pressure from the Jedi council had increased.

Both possibilities seemed unlikely to Kinsa. If they had left the Jedi order, then what had happened to them? And why did none of the Masters talk about them, even as a cautionary tale. The Jedi had busts of "The Fallen", all the Jedi Masters who had abandoned the order, in the middle of the archives so it made no sense that she wouldn't have heard anything about this group. And, if they had just stayed silent for hundreds of years within the Jedi order they definitely would have resurfaced during this time, with all the young Knights speaking out against the council so freely.

Kinsa just wanted to know what had happened to this group of Grey Jedi, whose words alone made her feel more at home and accepted than she felt with the Jedi. If she could find them, she thought she could work out the confusing mess going around in her spirit, as well as find a place for children the Jedi wouldn't accept. If she had someone to talk to and to guide her through she knew she would be alright. The closest thing she had to that now was Master Sifu, and she still wasn't completely comfortable working through her doubts with a council member, even if he had expressed similar doubts. Still, she couldn't very well ask around to see if anyone had heard about the Grey Jedi. If it got back to Master Liftling that she was interested in them she would no doubt be pulled from the field. She continued to search the net for any word on what had happened to them; there had to be something.

" **S** o are you ready to put that new toy of yours to a true test?" Darth Cognus said playfully, tossing her lightsaber in the air catching it.

Namon had been noticing a change in Darth Cognus over the last couple of months since his trip to Vorass. She had always been nicer than he would expect a Master to be, especially a Sith Master, but she had become even more friendly as time went on. It felt like they were comrades working together, equals instead of Master and apprentice. He whirled around and pulled his sword from its scabbard where it was strapped on his back. He looked at it for a moment, admiring it. He had chosen the name Force eater or, in ancient Sith language Qyâsik Derriphan, after its ability to suck the Force from any room it was in or person it was around, and its ability to absorb Force lightning. He did a few practice swings for show.

"This should be fun," he said.

Darth Cognus smiled, then launched her lightsaber quickly at him. He ducked under the spinning blur and shot a small amount of lightning at her in response. Cognus jumped up, cart wheeling over the stream lightning that passed centimeters under her head. As she was in the air she recalled her weapon from behind Namon, forcing him to duck to avoid it again. As she grabbed a hold of it, she pressed the secondary activation and held it like a regular shoto. She landed in a crouch before him and sliced at his feet with her right hand. Namon lifted his leg up, avoiding Cognus' strike and bringing his knee up under her chin in the same move. She fell backwards into a roll and came quickly to her feet, facing him again in a crouch.

He dashed forward, bringing his sword up and swinging it down, aiming for her head. She easily side-stepped the blow and pushed the offensive before Namon could build his momentum and force Darth Cognus into a defensive stance. He retreated hurriedly, using all he had in an attempt to match her astonishing speed. This was his weapon's one weakness; with its weight it was hard for him to match the speed of a lightsaber in the hands of a trained practitioner, and it was nearly impossible for him to keep up with Cognus' whirling sabers. Even compensating with the Force, he knew it couldn't last for very long. Darth Cognus was continually striking with both her weapons at the same time, forcing him to avoid one saber and block the other. He wasn't very good at moving and dodging like this. Darth Cognus finally made a mistake; she came in with both sabers at the same time, both aimed for his hip. He was able to take a step back and bring his sword swinging from right to left to block her attacks. Because of the weight of the sword and his strength he was able to force both her arms out, exposing her body. He quickly brought his sword back, retracing its path, aiming for her vulnerable torso. Instead of trying to block his attack, Darth Cognus just tilted to the left and dropped to the floor, falling under his blade. She wrapped her lithe legs around his thick ankle and twisted her body, tripping him up and making him pitch forward. He quickly dropped his sword and brought his hands up to brace his fall.

By the time he scrambled to his feet, she was already pushing her attack. He used the Force to grab his sword and immediately had to lean back to avoid the humming blade aimed for his neck; he brought his sword up to block the other stab aimed for his chest. He kicked at her legs, hoping to knock her off balance, but she simply jumped up to avoid his foot. As she landed, Namon straightened himself and reached towards her, dropping his sword to the ground again and grabbing her wrists in his durasteel grasp. He yanked her arms apart, trying to keep her lightsabers far from him. He spread her arms out and lifted her up, letting her feet dangle. He heard her quiet grunt of pain as he overextended her arms. He wasn't actually sure what he would do with her now that he had her in this position. Before he could decide, Darth Cognus swung her legs back and then brought them up and kicked him in the face with both feet. Namon felt his nose crunch and he roared in pain. He immediately let go of Cognus' wrist and stumbled back, pressing his hand to his face, trying to catch the flowing blood. Darth Cognus dashed forward with her lightsabers extended and held them up to his neck.

"Dun Möch," she said simply before extinguishing her lightsabers and placing them back on her hip.

"That was impressive," she told him as she sat down on the training room floor and crossed her legs. She motioned for him to do the same.

"I didn't expect that move; it certainly caught me off guard. However, it's important not to lose your weapon in battle, certainly not when you don't have a concrete plan."

Namon nodded, still holding his head in his hands, viewing her through his fingers. He hadn't meant to let go of his sword. He had gotten flustered, knowing he couldn't keep up his defence much longer, and had reacted without thinking.

"It's important that you find a way to compensate for the weight of the blade on defence. Especially," she said with a smile, "if you're going to succeed on your next mission."

Namon perked up. It had been months since he was sent to Vorass. He enjoyed the training with Darth Cognus and the valuable lessons he learned, but he missed the thrill of true adventure. He missed the tight, nervous feeling that came from being in real danger. He stayed silent, waiting excitedly for her to give him the mission.

"There is a large cult on Jagudda calling themselves "The Dead Galaxy". They are actually an alliance of multiple cults, united under a Human leader. I've been keeping an eye on them for many years and they are rapidly becoming a serious problem. They are quietly and quickly growing in number, adding other cults to their ranks and finding new members. If they continue at this pace, they could eventually challenge the Jedi. Their leader, Grif, holds martial strength above all else. When he first became the leader he issued a challenge to all his members, that if any one of them could defeat him in a duel they would assume the mantle of leadership. The challenge was issued over five years ago and, though he has been challenged many times, has never been defeated. We need to stop this cult before it grows to large. We – you - must push them into a war they cannot hope to win. You will travel to Jagudda and challenge their leader in single combat. Once you defeat him you will take lead of the cult and force them into a war against the Jedi. Decree a challenge to the Jedi once you have full control of the cult. The Jedi will be forced to respond and "The Dark Galaxy" will be destroyed."

Namon had to control his body to keep it from trembling. This was way more than anything he could hope for in a mission. He took a few calming breaths and focused on Darth Cognus as she continued talking.

"Besides just defeating a dangerous group of Dark siders, this will also keep the young Jedi Knights from becoming too restless. I thought I'd done enough to discourage this sudden burst of Jedi activity, but I was wrong," she said, almost seeming to talk to herself. "My ears in the temple tell me that the younger Knights continue to talk about seceding from the Jedi and creating their own order, the "Legendary Guardians" as they apparently plan to call themselves. This cult will be destroyed but the common enemy will keep the Jedi together, and it will give the disillusioned Knights a war to rally around and reminisce about."

Namon was still excited for this mission and he understood how this would keep the Jedi together, but he was confused why they would want to.

"Why do we need the Jedi to be together?" he asked her after trying and failing to figure it out for himself. "Wouldn't it be better to have them fractured, to divide and conquer?"

Darth Cognus responded patiently. "While there would be some benefits to splitting the Jedi into fractions, the pros are heavily outweighed by the cons. These Legendary Guardians would spread out, learn and experience. They would grow stronger as they tested themselves against the Galaxy. No doubt they would visit planets where the Jedi had never been before, finding new challenges and new members. Besides simply getting stronger, they would be on a search for the Dark side. The Jedi order now pretends to care about eradicating all traces of what they see as the Dark Force, but it is a lie. In truth, they feel they have done enough by supposedly whipping out the Sith; as long as the influence of what they call the Dark side stays out of sight, the majority of them are more than happy to pretend it doesn't exist. It would not be so with these younger, more wild Jedi. They would follow up on every rumour and whisper and eventually they would find us before we were ready. We need to keep to ourselves, keeping the Jedi distracted, making them feel like they're doing something while we work towards their destruction."

Namon was amazed at his Master's planning mind and he was reminded again how much he still had to learn. He nodded to signify he understood her point; he was anxious to get started on his new mission.

"Take care to remember your true goal," she warned him before he could get up, her tone becoming dry and serious. "Being a Master over one being can be intoxicating; being ruler over thousands of people could easily become overwhelming. Remember who you are. You're not the leader of a one-in-a-million cult; you're the heir to the legacy of Darth Bane, the true Sith line." She finished her warning and rose to her feet, signifying it was time for him to leave.

Namon jumped to his feet and quickly headed for the stairs, still filled with excitement at his new mission. If it hadn't been for her harsh tone, Namon would have dismissed his Master's warning completely. He wasn't afraid that he would be tempted to leave his apprenticeship to be the leader of some cult he was being sent to crush.

As he reached the door, it dawned on him why she had given the warning at all: Darth Millennial, her last apprentice. She hadn't told him much about the man but he knew he had ran from her. He understood now why her voice had gotten so cold when she had warned him about it. She was still hurt from losing her last apprentice and was afraid that Namon would abandon her as well. He found it interesting that for all her cruelty and power she still had spots of vulnerability. He didn't see the point of leading a cult though, no-one; would be there to teach him and all the knowledge his predecessors had collected would be lost to him. He would be starting from scratch without anyone to guide him. Namon knew his limitations and he knew he wasn't ready to step out on his own. The scope of her planning alone proved this.

Namon came to a sudden stop and turned back to face his master.

"I will remain loyal to the Sith," he assured her, giving a quick bow.

Cognus turned to face him and gave him a curt nod.

"You will find all the information I could gather about the cults, their history and their leaders on a data pad in your room. Be sure to read it thoroughly and I would suggest you try to find additional information. You should leave soon, but there isn't much of rush for this mission. One last thing: most of these cults apparently have a large amount of wealth. It would be good for you to siphon their credits out before you flee; you should start accumulating your own wealth."

She turned her back to him again and started going through her attack sequences. Namon stood and watched her for a moment before stepping away from her and continuing his run up the stairs, heading for his room. She'd said there was no rush to leave, but Namon wanted to start as soon as possible, and he had a lot of research to do.

 **C** ognus heard her apprentice's heavy footfalls as he bounded up the stairs. Despite her earlier concerns, she felt good about her decision to send Namon to deal with the cult. She had originally been nervous about making her apprentice the leader of a cult; she wasn't sure she had been with him long enough to trust him not to stray. She had even considered doing the mission herself, but knew that wasn't an option at this time. She couldn't leave Namon alone with nothing to do so early on in his training. Besides, there were some things she had to take care of.

 **K** insa gritted her teeth, working to keep her mouth shut and trying her hardest to keep from yelling what was in her head at Master Farl as he gave her, her orders. Ever since her research on the Grey Jedi, she had been having trouble with respecting or taking orders from the leaders of the Jedi. This was the man who had accepted her into the ranks of the Shadows, she told herself; she shouldn't be angry with him. Truthfully, she knew she wasn't angry with him but rather with what he represented to her. He was the only Jedi leader she had come into contact with since reading about the Grey Jedi and so all her frustrations were being aimed towards him even though he didn't deserve it. Once Kinsa rationalized what was happening in her head, she was able to push her stupid, artificial anger aside; it was time to focus on the mission she was receiving.

"A group of them on the moon of Bonce. They're stirring up trouble and I need you to go and investigate. I'm not sure what the threat is so if you feel you can't deal with it alone, call for backup."

Even though she had come to momentary peace, Kinsa almost scoffed. She certainly wouldn't be calling any other Jedi for backup; if she did, it would probably take months before they got to her.

 **A** few days later Namon stepped onto the small, private dock attached to their estate. He stared longingly at Talon, his Master's personal ship. He'd never been inside of it but, just from the outside, it looked amazingly luxurious. Based on the size, he wasn't sure he would be comfortable in the ship, but anything would be better than the ship he had to use. It was an old, clunky transport ship from before the war. Darth Cognus had added armor plating to it and a new hyperdrive but it still looked ugly and handled terribly. It was beat up, the paint was fading and the hull was riddled with dents and burns. He realized the point of the ship was to be inconspicuous, but he still hated flying around in that piece of space junk.

He gave a resigned sigh and walked up the open ramp onto the ship. He put his disappointment about the ship out of his mind; he needed to focus on his coming mission.

 **K** insa felt sick. This entire moon, the air, the smell, the ground, it all created a deep pit in the middle of her stomach. She was certain she was about to throw up and yet she felt like she was starving at the same time. There had been talk of Dark side sorcerers corrupting this moon and it seemed clear the rumours were not unfounded. She had to stand, lean really, against the small hut for a few minutes, letting the Light side flow from within her until she felt better.

She re-checked her equipment to make sure she had everything before she continued. After getting her mission, Kinsa had spoken to a couple of the locals to gather more information. The sorcerers were apparently three females in the middle of the desert, surviving off meager of meals and "communing" with the Force. It was these locals who had sent the reports to Coruscant.

She slung her pack, full of rations, water and a thermal sleeping bag onto her back and trotted off into the desert. She hoped she could find them before the cold night fell.

 **C** ognus stared lovingly at her ship. Besides certain scrolls and holocrons, Raven was without a doubt her most precious possession. She walked up the thin ramp, the inside just as beautiful and sleek as the outside. She entered her cockpit and sat into the captain's chair that seemed to just conform to her body. She set a course for Ruusan, the site of the battle of the last war between the Sith and the Jedi, the Jedi's apparent success and the true Sith's greatest victory.

Before he had left, Darth Bane had taken the journal of Lord Quordis, a headmaster at the old Sith academy. The journal was chalk full of secrets he had been hoarding from the rest of the "Brotherhood" of Darkness.

One of the secrets was about a Holocron, a Holocron from an ancient Sith that Quordis had managed to collect. Apparently, with the war raging around him, he hadn't had the time or privacy to explore it. Choosing to take it with him to Russan, he'd hid it from the Other Sith Lords, planning to recover it after the war. He had drawn a confusing map with a coded language that Darth Cognus had just recently taken the time to decipher. With map in hand, she was headed to Russan to collect the Holocron. Sending Namon after it had been an option, but she thought he would enjoy the other mission more. And, besides, she trusted her apprentice but she wasn't sure he wouldn't attempt to explore the Holocron's secrets before delivering it to her.


	13. Chapter 13

**CariacCane:** Thanks for your review, I'm glad you liked it. I agree with you now that I should have done more with the Jedi, especially after reading your story. I still could have made Kinsa disillusioned with them. As for the Wookie being a "man" I actually went back and forth, trying to think what an alien would call another alien male or female.

 **Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome**

 **13**

 **K** insa had spent two days and one night in the desert when she came upon a large, unnatural black sun hanging in the sky. Even after her long trek she still had almost all her food and water rations, but she would still be glad to get out of this burning desert whose heat was sapping her strength and whose atmosphere was stealing her Light. She picked her up pace, breaking into a brisk jog.

As she neared the black sphere she saw three figures, completely naked, holding their arms up to the blackness. At first she thought they were an alien species: they had bright red skin and bald heads. As she came closer, however, she saw they were all human females; their skin was red from intense burns. She stood at a distance and marveled at their shining red, shriveled, wrinkled skin, their sunken in and starved bodies.

This was the true face of the Dark side. How could any amount of power be worth this sacrifice? Kinsa was used to feeling anger when faced with followers of Darkness, but this time she was just depressed, she felt sad for these women. Whatever these terrorists were doing, whatever malicious plans they had for this moon was stealing their life from them.

Moving slowly, Kinsa sat down behind the women and meditated; they still didn't seem to notice her. So she gathered her Force slowly, planning to stun them rather than get into a fight and possibly injure the sickly women. She wasn't sure how she would get them back to her ship but she would figure it out.

After only a few seconds of meditating, she felt a terrible sense of dread and darkness crushing her. She opened her eyes to see the sorcerers holding their hands out towards her. The air around her started to grow darker and her aggressors were slowly blocked out by the dark. Kinsa was drowning in a thick swamp of despair and sadness. She tried to stand but her movements were all slow and strained; it felt like she was trying to move through a sea of glue.

Kinsa called on the Force, trying to shield herself from the attack but, if anything, as she opened herself up she felt the oppressive Darkness even more. She had never felt anything like this. She fell to her knees, the crushing weight forcing her down. She took out her lightsaber but couldn't even ignite it before the weight forced her down on all fours. Her arms began to shake from the weight trying to press her down to her stomach. Fear started rising up as she fought against the Dark weight pushing her down. It had been foolish of her to assume the women didn't notice her. She had underestimated them because they seemed so sad and decrepit. The fear and failure started hardening within her, becoming anger at herself and the situation. The blackness around her started coming in and solidifying her anger. She felt some of her strength coming back and she used it to get a firm grip on her saber, igniting and throwing it blindly as hard as she could. As she lifted her one hand to throw the weapon, she smashed her face into the ground.

There was a pained scream and the pressure upon her as well as the Darkness infecting her immediately lessened. She pushed herself up to one knee, raising her head to look at the women. She could see that one of them was squirming on the sand, her leg lopped off at the knee. Another wave of Darkness rolled over her but she managed to stay up on one knee. Aiming for one of the still standing witches, she thrust out, her angry Force shooting a kinetic ball at the crimson woman. As she used the Force she felt the Darkness worming its way in, but the woman dropped to her back, relieving the pressure a little more. Kinsa felt deep anger growing within her as she pushed herself to her feet. She ran at the last enchanter, it was much easier to move now than before. She got to the woman and wrapped her hands around her thin red neck. Her fingers squeezed through the crinkled skin, drawing thin lines of blood as the choking woman slapped pitifully at Kinsa's wrists. Kinsa wrenched her hands to the side, creating an audible pop as the neck was snapped. The sorcerer's head lolled to the side and Kinsa released her, letting the body fall. Before the deceased woman even hit the ground, Kinsa had recalled her lightsaber and was looking for her next victim. She turned to the uninjured woman just as she was standing up, quickly bringing her saber down on her. The lightsaber connected with the woman's neck, taking her head clean off. Kinsa stalked slowly towards the remaining woman, who was writhing around on the ground, spurts of blood shooting from the partially cauterized stump of a leg. The anger inside her continued to bubble up, demanding that she act. Kinsa stabbed down at the helpless woman, her lightsaber driving through her chest and putting an end to her spastic movements.

The anger within her evaporated immediately, leaving an empty hole that was quickly filled with grief and guilt. She stood alone, breathing quickly and deeply, immediately regretting her actions.

She'd reacted out of anger and revenge. Kinsa wanted to belive that it hadn't been her, that their evil had infected her, looking around at the three mangled bodies she was worried about who she was becoming.

 **N** amon disengaged his ship's thrusters, gliding it down slowly onto the air pad in the small town. People gathered around his ship, dozens of species practically pressing their face into the glass, trying to see who this strange visitor was. He could see from inside his ship about fifteen people in hooded black robes, standing still in the crowd spread out in a circle around his ship. He lowered the ramp and strapped Qyâsik Derriphan to his back. The crowd made an audible gasp of surprise as he walked onto the ramp. He kept his head high, looking over the throng of people as they whispered around him.

Namon ignored them and made a beeline for the nearest guard.

"Your leader, Grif; where is he?" he asked the masked face urgently.

The guard turned around and started walking, leading him through the crowd. Two other guards walked up and flanked him on both sides. As Namon walked, he marveled at the feeling of being surrounded by hundreds of Force users, each having their own specific and unique Force signature, their energies mixing and blending together while still being separate. Darth Cognus had told him this was a large and influential cult, but he'd had no idea it was this size. There had to be a thousand beings here. He could understand Cognus' statement that, if they continued to grow, they would be a match for the Jedi. If it were up to him, they would let this group grow and challenge the Jedi, letting them weaken the order so that he and his Master could swoop in and destroy them; however, it wasn't his decision. He didn't want these people to win; he needed them to get slaughtered.

After a few minutes of walking through the town, they came to a large, purple tent interlaid with a golden swirl pattern. The guards stopped and turned, letting him pass by them into the tent. He brushed the heavy flap aside and ducked into the tent, entering an entirely different world. Outside of the tent everything was sparse and colourless; dry, dying grass, drab brown tents and hundreds of beings clothed in plain robes. Here, though, it was completely different. The tent was even larger than it had seemed from the outside and was packed with furniture, including a large table made of an expensive-looking, dark wood with a dozen chairs to match. Four plush couches, which Namon doubted had been sat on more than once, were spread around the tent. There were even various sculptures, busts of people Namon didn't recognize, and various abstract sculptures.

In the middle of it all was Grif. He was a massive human male, leaning lazily on a large wooden chair he almost surely fancied a throne. He had dark skin and long stark white hair tied in thick braids and slung over his shoulder. His right hand was stretched out, holding a long, dark grey staff in front of him, engraved with silver script Namon was too far away to read. Namon couldn't believe that such a man had managed to hold on to influence over such a large amount of people for so long; only the weak and insecure attempt to console themselves with the trappings of wealth. Clearly he was supposed to be impressed by the lavish tent, but, looking around, all Namon could think of was all the money could have done if spent correctly.

The man leaned forward on his staff and pulled himself to his feet, standing almost eye-to-eye with Namon. He stared intently at Namon, trying to discern his intention.

"You wish to challenge me to Kaggath," the man declared confidently in a harsh gravelly voice.

Namon laughed to himself at the man's arrogant foolishness. Kaggath was an ancient Sith form of warfare where one Sith challenged another to all-out war. They fought with all their apprentices, allies, fleets, armies, and resources until one was destroyed. It was used at a time when Sith Masters had multiple apprentices and their own private army. It could take years or decades to be settled; it wasn't a simple duel. He ignored the man's ignorance and simply nodded. The man banged his metal staff on a stone in the dirt. It rang out and Grif rushed out of the tent to address the crowd.

"Kaggath has been declared," he announced, his gravelly voice croaking as he yelled.

The crowd cheered; Namon assumed they had seen many fall under their leader's blade. The entire crowd, including Namon, followed after Grif as he walked past the tents, the crowd jeering at him the whole way. After a minute or so of walking, they came to a large stadium. While not as big as the one on Alkaroe it was still impressively large. Darth Cognus wasn't exaggerating when she said this cult was extremely well-funded.

They walked into the stadium and stood in the dry, dusty dirt ground and faced each other. The cult members filed into the seats, there were even more people than he had seen before.

"You have one last chance, stranger," the man said to him, twirling his staff. "Once this begins, there will be no turning back."

In response, Namon simply unsheathed his sword from his back, holding it low, its tip in the sand. Grif smiled and shook his head, his long braids dragging along his shoulders . He pressed a button on his staff and it ignited, a foot-and-a-half long red blade coming from the rod.

Namon understood now. He had been confused as to why the man had the metal walking stick, but now he saw it was a lightsaber pike. He assumed the shaft itself was made of pillik or Cortosis, both being lightsaber-resistant metal. Namon wasn't sure, but he assumed it would also be capable of holding up to his sword.

The man began a slow walk towards Namon, twirling his pike around his body in an intricate dance that was supposed to be threatening. He swung it up and brought it down in a sudden attack, surprising Namon with its range. He jumped back, letting the saber cross-town in front of him. Before it hit the ground, Grif redirected it and stabbed the pike forward, holding onto the end of it with only one hand, extending it to an amazing length.

Namon twisted to the side and brought his sword down on the staff, hoping to knock it out of the man's hand. Before his blade could make contact, however, Grif retracted the blade back. He then he spun in a circle, whipping the pike around at Namon.

Namon brought his sword to bear in a down guard, catching the beam. He brought his sword up and swung it over his head with both hands, easily overpowering the man's one-handed, overstretched grasp. Namon stepped forward, under the blades, and punched forward with his left hand. Grif tried to back up, but Namon's fist still crashed into his jaw. He was forced to release his grasp on his pike and almost fell to his back. He stumbled back to put some space between them and they stood for a moment, facing each other. Blood dripped from Grif's chin, the skin cut from Namon's sharp scales. Namon saw a moment of surprise and fear in the man's dark, red eyes. He had clearly never been truly challenged by anyone who had faced him. Grif used the Force to call his pike back to his hands and got into a fighting stance.

Namon wanted to see how the man would deal with lightning, and as a bonus it would be a nice show for the men and women watching. Besides just defeating the human he wanted to display his power to the people he was going to be ruling over.

He drew on the fear he felt from Grif to gather his Force and shot his hand out, bringing forth a torrent of electricity. The large man held his pike out and spun it in front of him, catching the lightning and continuing the spin before launching it back at Namon, their two streams colliding.

Namon felt Qyâsik Derriphan reach into him, taking his emotions and feeding Force power back to him. As the Force bubbled inside him, he gathered it together and pushed forward; his stream of lightning thickened and pushed closer to Grif. Namon could see Grif grimace as he strained to control the barrage of electricity. Small tendrils of lightning diverged from the main stream and arced to Grif. He roared in pain as it burnt his skin. He stopped spinning his pike and instead pushed it to the side, careering Namon's stream, shooting it into the ground beside him.

Grif's face grew frantic; he clearly hadn't expected such a fight. Namon waited for a few seconds for the cult leader to re-gather his confidence. Grif suddenly leapt towards him, holding his pike over his head, ready to slam down on Namon. Namon brought his guard up just as Grif landed hard, sending a splash of dust up around them. The strength of the blow knocked Namon's sword down and almost out of his hands. Grif bent down and swiped at his knees. Namon jumped up, feeling the heat on the soles of his feet as the lightsaber whizzed by. The large man stood up straight and slashed at Namon's hip. He brought his sword up to block, but was too late in realizing it was a feint.

Taking a quick step forward, Grif pushed the other end of his staff forward, slamming the metal tip into the corner of his right eye. Pain exploded in Namon's brain, his vision became a cloud of red and he felt the small scales around his eye shatter and fall off. He could hardly see out of the veil of red covering his left eye. Grif held his pike horizontally and smashed into the bridge of his nose. Namon felt blood flow from his nose down his face; he tasted the coppery liquid filter into his mouth. He half saw and half felt Grif coming in for another strike. Namon reached out and grabbed the bar, stopping the blow cold. He held on tight and slowly his vision started to clear. He saw Grif holding his pike with both hands, trying desperately to tug it out of Namon's one handed grasp.

Pain radiated from Namon's nose and the side of his head; he captured the pain and held onto it, turning it into anger. In his other hand he felt Qyâsik Derriphan as it sensed the rage building; Namon's anger was siphoned away and replaced, transformed into fuel for the Force. He took the Force, the fires billowing within him, and, instead of releasing it outwards, he kept it inside, letting it flow through his veins and strengthen him. He used the Force enhanced strength and pulled the pike, and the oversized man holding onto it, towards him. Grif launched off his feet and flew forward as Namon brought his leg up, planting his rock hard soles into the man's chest. He felt the man's ribs crack and cave inward before his grasp on the pike was broken and he flew backwards again, falling to his back with a thud.

Namon let the man's pike drop to the ground and he stalked slowly up to the still man, trying to milk the moment for the crowd. He leaned down to find that Grif was still breathing in shallow, quick breaths, his face scrunching up in pain with every gasp for air.

"You were a true warrior. But your time has passed," he said to the man, speaking loud enough for at least some of the crowd to hear.

A silent anticipation held the crowd; Namon could feel them tense, wondering what would happen next. Namon leaned back away from the man and used the Force to lift the barely-breathing cult leader up straight so they were eye-to-eye.

"Everything you once had is mine, and I will burn it all to ash," he whispered harshly to the trembling man.

If he heard or comprehended Namon's words, he showed no sign of it. Namon saw no point in prolonging the man's death. He broke eye contact and scanned the crowd, all of them on the edge of their seats, their faces etched with nervousness, excitement and surprise. With a thought, Namon simply snapped the man's neck, ending his irritating breathing and his life. He let the body fall once more into the dust and gave the crowd a moment to accept their new reality.

"I came here, not to test my strength in a petty duel against your leader," he started after a moment's pause, projecting his voice to be heard all around the small coliseum. "I came because of you." Namon turned slowly, letting his words sink in and glancing over every cult member for a moment, trying to create an artificial personal experience with each of them. "You, who are the greatest group of Force users in the Galaxy. I came here because, with you at my side and with me at your head, we can do what none of our Dark ancestors have been able to do. We are the Dark side. We are the Bogan." Namon's yelled even louder and he let false emotion slip into his voice. "It is time for us to stop hiding. Time to end the cowering, time to emerge from the shadows and snuff out the light. We are the beings who will destroy the Jedi."

There was a quick, surprised intake of breath all around the arena, followed immediately by a roaring applause and yells of agreement. Weak-minded fools, Namon thought to himself as he projected an air of belief to the crowd. How easily they had been convinced to line up for the slaughter.

 **I** t was always here, in the moments of silence, alone and hurling through the blackness of space, that Cognus questioned herself. Even when she had been an assassin, it was the still pause before she got to a target when she asked herself if this was what she wanted. She had been through it so many times; it was a tired routine she couldn't stop.

What was the point of power? She asked herself for the millionth time. Whether it was influence and control created by ridiculous wealth and the fear she inspired in others, or strength and skill from her mastery of the Force, it was all to the same end, power. But she had to wonder if the power she dedicated her life to attaining was actually worth anything?

At first she had thought she'd answered this question when she had become a Sith; the code said that power was a means rather than an end, a means to freedom. At first this had made sense, but the longer she had been Sith the less truth it seemed to hold, the less certain she was that she was free. She was working, putting her entire life into the continuation and strengthening of the Sith line. Their doctrine taught that you should live for yourself, but that wasn't truly what she was doing; she enjoyed killing, she enjoyed stalking her prey, watching and waiting, preparing before striking, feeling the sweet moment when the heart stopped beating and the blood ceased its flow.

Instead, she hid inside her huge, dusty house on a practically abandoned planet, waiting and training for the day when her apprentice would kill her. The only time she left was to collect more relics or scrolls to amass more pointless power. Cognus marveled at her own hypocrisy; she had preached to Namon the importance of living for yourself, about not worrying how you were remembered or what you left behind, about forging your own destiny and not relying on the Force. Yet she had been doing the exact opposite. She felt stuck in a confusing circle of contradictory Sith philosophy.

What does power mean if you never use it, if you just hide away, training alone, then what was the use? Certainly not freedom.

Cognus groaned and tried to stop the useless train of thought. She may not be having as much fun as when she was an assassin, but what she was doing now meant something. Before, she had killed beings on the orders of clients who paid her credits she could never hope to spend. Now she was the Master; if she wanted to, she could walk away today and no-one could stop her. She knew, however, that she could never do that, to just throw away all she had worked for, all the power. All the useless power.

She groaned even louder; she had always been terrible at trying to convince herself of something. She leaned back in her captain's chair and let the soft plush material swallow her up. She watched the stars streak by as she flew through the cosmos and tried to just put it all away.

 **C** ognus stepped off the ramp and took her first step in years onto the strange planet of Russan, her confusing muddle of thoughts left outside the atmosphere. Of the billions of planets and moons in the Galaxy, she found Russan to be the most interesting. All celestial bodies had a spirit, a leaning, either Light or Dark, almost like a history of what had happened there and who had controlled it. There was a strange bond between the inhabitants of a planet and the planet itself. Over time the beings, their attitude and their actions, could affect the spirit of the planet. At the same time the planet, or the living Force that pulsed through it, was absorbed by its inhabitants and affected what kind of a species it would be. Sometimes, the spirit was barely there and would go unnoticed by any but a Force user. Other planets, such as Drummond Kaas, Korriban, or Kashyyyk had "something in the air" that could even be noticed by the normal beings of the Galaxy.

Russan, though it had a strong spiritual atmosphere, was neither Light nor Dark, it was like a strange grey void, a result of the long and brutal war between the Jedi Army of Light and the Sith Brotherhood of Darkness. There was a pale lifelessness that radiated from the core and affected all the living things on the surface. Cognus felt a permanent chill, like the feeling that runs down your spine and makes you shake, but over and over again. It wasn't a lack of Force - the Force was seeping out of every pore of the planet - it was the lack of Light or Dark that threw her off, the undecided, the lukewarm. It disgusted and intrigued her simultaneously.

It reminded her somewhat of Set Harth, a Dark Jedi she had an encounter with before she had become a Sith. He was a Jedi knight who left the order after the war to live for himself. Even though he rejected the Jedi teachings, he wasn't by any means a follower of the Dark side. He had turned from both Jedi and Sith, caught somewhere in the middle.

Cognus felt anger and repulsion rise up, as she did whenever her thoughts drifted to the Dark Jedi. While she found the aggressive neutrality of Russan somewhat interesting, she found the same trait in a Force-wielding being, one with so much potential for either side but wasted when improperly trained by either, simply disgusting. In her long history of killing people he had been the only person she had tried and failed to kill, another reason thoughts of him evoked angry, murderous thoughts. She still told herself one day she would set aside the time to track down and kill the man; once again however, she failed to truly convince herself.

Pushing the useless thoughts out of her mind, she took out her data pad on which she had copied all the information she had about the Holocron. Apparently Quordis had hidden it in a small cave a only few kilometers from the Sith camp; Cognus assumed he'd wanted to keep it close in case of a hasty retreat, but not close enough to be sensed and found by the other Sith lords. Cognus laughed quietly to herself. How could Kahn ever think groups of Sith could ever truly work together? She was certain the majority of the so-called Brotherhood had secret weapons, waiting to be unleashed on their comrades as soon as the Jedi had been defeated. Not that the Jedi would have ever been truly defeated, she reminded herself. The Brotherhood would have defeated the Army of Light had Darth Bane not intervened, then immediately they would have fallen to infighting before actually finishing the war. The remaining Jedi would just have rallied together and exterminated the remaining Sith Empire that had all but destroyed themselves. Fools.

The Holocron she searched for had belonged to Darth Scourge, a pure-blooded Sith who lived thousands of years ago. He had been The Emperor's Wrath. It was a position for the executioner and assassin of the Emperor, a being who took orders only from him. Scourge had apparently been granted immortality and had lived for over three centuries before turning on the Emperor, destroying him with the help of some of the greatest Jedi Masters in history. She imagined a Sith who had lived so long, done so much and performed such a hated and unexplained act, would have a very interesting and useful Holocron. She started a slow jog, headed east towards the cave that held her source for new power.


	14. Chapter 14

**Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome**

 **14**

 **N** amon sat and watched his two top generals, an uncharacteristically tall and lanky Kaleesh and a small but extremely tough Rodian, boxing barehanded in his large tent. Namon had cleared out all the foolish and vain pieces of art and furniture his predecessor had filled the area with. Now, all he had was his massive chair and the large wooden table he used for council meetings with his generals.

The two men were trading punch for punch, fighting to be named his second-in-command, a position known in this cult simply as The Hand. The Kaleesh was at least two meters tall and looked to weigh about seventy kilograms. He had long, lanky arms with compact, ropey muscles. He had dark reddish-brown skin with small, thin scales. The Kaleesh were technically a reptilian species but, in comparison to Barabels, the scales of the Kaleesh species were almost skin-like. Also, unlike Barabels but similar to many reptilian species they had four fingers instead of five. They had extremely long ears that had a sharp point rising up from their bald heads. One of the most distinguishing aspects of the species was their tusks. They had two, short, pointed tusks jutting down from their upper jaw, reaching a few centimeters below their chin. At almost all times Kaleesh wore a traditional mask to cover their face but, during the fight, his had already been blown off. The Kaleesh were known across the Galaxy to be an extremely aggressive species. They believed war was extremely spiritual and thus fighting among tribes was extremely common and seen as an essential part of life.

Rodians were also a reptilian species but had very few similarities to the Kaleesh. The majority of Rodians, including the one fighting before him, had dirty green skin and coal-black, bug-like, multifaceted eyes. They also had two small, thumb sized, saucer-shaped antennae protruding from the top of their heads that were used to detect subtle vibrations. They had long, tapir-like mouths that served as another olfactory sense, collecting and filtering air. Because of their large eyes, vibration sensing antennae and mouth that could taste the air around them, Rodians were said to have an almost sixth sense about them. Rodians were extremely violent and often found work in the Galaxy as bounty hunters, body guards and leaders of underworld organizations. Unlike the thin skin-like scales of the Kaleesh or the hard, thick scales of a Barabel, a Rodian's skin was rough and pebbly. Their hands were large, with five long fingers at the end. Unlike the rest of their skin, their hands were smooth and leathery. Their long, slender fingers were tipped with tiny suction cups. This man was just over one-and-a-half meters in height and looked to be about sixty kilograms, quite a bit smaller than the average Rodian. Namon had expected the fight to be over quickly, with the larger man easily pummeling the small green-skinned being, but he was surprised by the resilience of the Rodian. He had taken several devastating blows from the red-skinned reptile and every time he bounced back to deliver a solid punch of his own.

Besides his mask being knocked off, the skin around the Kaleesh's eye was bruised an even darker red than the rest of his skin. He was leaning to the side, damaged from a sharp kick from the Rodian and he was heavily favoring his left leg.

The small Rodian slipped a punch from the Kaleesh, moving under the man's strike and getting closer where his short range would be less of a disadvantage. Ducking down low, the Rodian delivered a quick flurry of punches into his opponent's side, knocking the air from him and jumping back before he could retaliate. The Rodian punched upwards, aiming for the man's exposed face. Before his fist could reach its target, he was slashed across the face by the Kaleesh's clawed hand, leaving four deep cuts in his rocky skin. The man jumped back quickly, holding his hand over his bleeding face. Besides these new angry cuts, the Rodian's nose was completely broken and it looked like his ankle was broken or at least sprained; he was hardly able to put any weight on it.

Instead of continuing to retreat as Namon had expected, the Rodian launched into the offensive, swinging hard at the Kaleesh's chin. The taller man easily leaned back out of man's short range. The Rodian continued moving forward, swinging wildly. The Kaleesh ducked under another cross from the Rodian and came up with a haymaker. The man's wild swing connected with the Rodian's temple, finally knocking the persistent Rodian to the ground.

"Yield," Namon called from his ornate wooden chair, stopping the Kaleesh from attacking his unconscious opponent. "You have won the right to be my Hand.

He addressed the hooded, masked guards just outside the tent who were pretending not to watch the fight. "Bring the fallen to the Bacta tank for healing. When he recovers, he will join Molph's troops as a private."

He turned again to his new Hand who had by now replaced his customary bone mask on his face. Namon had been studying the major species of the Galaxy and he knew it was extremely rare for outsiders to see a Kaleesh's uncovered face.

"Go to the medics and get yourself patched up. When you recover return and we will discuss your responsibilities as my second-in-command."

The man bowed low and spun on his heels, rushing out of the tent.

Namon was extremely happy with how his mission was progressing. In just a few short months, he had transformed a group of dozens of separate cults, banded together in the tenuous grasp of their leader, into a uniform order, The Bogan. It was the ancient name the first Force sensitives had for the Dark side before they had split into the Sith and Jedi factions. Now, instead of an argumentative council of leaders from heads of each cult, Namon had chosen generals to lead his army. These generals weren't all leaders of old cults, but rather, they were simply the people he had seen as the strongest and wisest leaders.

There were eleven generals; each was in charge of specific Battalions, each Battalion with about one hundred troops split into three Platoons. Each Platoon consisted of about thirty troops and one leading Commander. The platoons were then split again into three; these Squads had ten troops led by a lieutenant. This way, everyone was accountable to someone else; with these small groups it was harder for the soldiers to get away with anything than it had been when it was just one leader looking after hundreds of people.

In each battalion there was an equal mixture of lightsaber experts and people who specialized more in Force combat. He'd chosen to split up and mix the cults, since each cult usually focused on a specific style of combat and keeping them together would be unbalanced.

His Hand, whom he had just dismissed, would become more than just his second in command, he would be his councilor on all matters pertaining to the troops and he would become head of the Elites, a group of about forty of the best from among his army. They were constantly garbed in the dark grey hoods and a flat black mask. They doubled as sort of army police and the first on the ground strike team. A small number of this group had served Grif as bodyguards. Namon had had rejected the suggestion that he continued to keep this small personal guard to protect from assassinations, trusting instead in his own skill to protect himself.

Despite the assurance he had given his Master, he had to admit that, over the last few months, he had to remind himself multiple times that this war was not his end goal. That the Jedi would slaughter them all, everyone from his newly-appointed Hand to his lowest private. They'd all be dead in a few months and he would be moving on, leaving them as nothing but a memory, nothing but a stepping stone in his ascent to greatness. He'd realized some time ago that this was more than just a mission to keep the Jedi under control and destroy a dangerous cult; it was a test, a test to see if Namon was truly loyal, not only to the Dark side but to the true Sith. As tempting as the idea of lording over a thousand loyal Dark-side Adepts had become, he knew he had no future with this cult. While he encouraged them, telling them they were the strongest beings in the Galaxy, that the Dark side inherently made them stronger than the Jedi, he knew it wasn't true.

Even after their devastating war with the Brotherhood, Darth Cognus' spies reported there were about eight hundred Jedi Knights and Masters, not to mention almost double that in Padawans and Initiates; many of the former would be a match for his average soldier. The Jedi order had apparently become extremely bottom-heavy, recruiting rapidly in an effort to replace the lost Masters and Knights. The Jedi were simply more organized, more numerous and, most importantly, better trained than his army; it would be a slaughter. And Namon would watch it all, studying the Jedi's specific war tactics, watching for their strengths and weaknesses; Darth Cognus' spies could only tell her so much during a time of peace.

 **C** ognus ground her teeth with frustration and nervousness as she rocketed from yet another planet, her ship groaning to escape the gravity trying to pull it back. Her instruments were blacked out and all she could see through the windows of her cockpit was the orange flames burning up around her ship. She'd always hated the moment of uncertainty when entering or exiting a planet's atmosphere: she could hardly control her ship and she had no idea what surrounded her or what would be there when she left the barrier. The lack of control over her own fate always made her uncomfortable. Her ship bounced slightly with turbulence and Cognus gripped the yoke even tighter, her thick, red fingers turning white.

This time, however, her fear of uncertainty was almost drowned out by her sea of rage. She had been going for who knows how many months, hopping from planet to planet, chasing the elusive Set Harth.

When she had arrived at the cave on Russan she found nothing but dripping walls covered in moss; the Holocron was nowhere to be found. She searched the large, winding network of caves for days, hoping Quordis had been mistaken about his exact placement of the artifact. Eventually, she'd had to accept that it was gone. Before leaving, she'd tried meditating in the space, looking through the cave's history to see what had happened to Quordis' artifact. After quickly flying past the years, the cave had remained empty and abandoned, she finally saw the one who had come before her. Rage had boiled up within her as she saw Set Harth stroll lazily into the cave and casually grab the Holocron as if it were a mere toy. After seeing the vision, she had set off to find the Dark Jedi and decided to finally finish what she had started a lifetime ago. For years after becoming a Master, she'd been putting it off, spending her time on furthering the Sith goals and training her apprentices. Now, however, Namon was busy on a mission of his own and she had nothing pressing to do.

Despite making the decision months ago, she had failed to capture the Dark Jedi. Normally, she had no trouble in finding a target. She simply concentrated on the being and, when she slept, the Force would let her see through their eyes. She would figure out what planet they were on based on what she had seen, then go and collect them; the ability had served her extremely well during her time as an assassin. The problem was her visions didn't show her where a person would be, but simply where they were at the time and Set never stayed on a planet long enough for her to catch him. She didn't understand how anyone could live like that, staying in a place for such a short period of time before moving on. There was a chance he knew she was following him but she doubted it. An underworld worm like Set would no doubt have connections that he would have sent her way to try and stop her pursuit.

The comforting blackness of space enveloped her as she blasted through the atmosphere; she breathed a sigh of relief as her instruments blinked back to life. She turned her thrusters off, settling into a comfortable slow orbit around the planet. She reclined her seat and tried to fall asleep, keeping Set in the front of her mind.

 **S** et could feel the spirit following behind him, chasing, waiting for the time to pounce. He had been jumping from planet to planet, hoping that whoever was following him would search the planets and he could get away, but so far, it wasn't working. He was going crazy, spending all his time in cheap hotels or his cramped ship. He needed to figure out a way to get this mysterious hunter off his trail.

" **I** have a mission for you Zeeth." Namon told his Hand suddenly, interrupting a council meeting between him and his twelve generals.

"Anything, Lord Marshal," the Kaleesh said from behind his bone mask, now with a red stripe on the top right coming to just above the eye hole, matching the stripe the other elites wore on their masks.

Lord Marshall - Namon was still slightly uncomfortable with the title. It was the customary name for the leader of this cult, but Namon would still rather they simply called him by his name. He stood up from his elegant, sturdy wooden chair and walked aimlessly away from the council table, letting the questioning silence build for a moment.

"I need you to be my voice," he told the man, turning back around and facing him. "The time has come for us to contact the Jedi and issue our challenge. However, I am already known to some members of their order and I want to give them as little information as possible about the specifics of our army. When we send the Holo-message, I will stand behind you, hooded and obscured. I want you to deliver my words to them."

Zeeth nodded firmly without hesitation. "I would be honoured to be your voice Lord Marshal."

Lord Marshal, Namon thought to himself again: what a foolish title.

 **T** he silence felt deafening as Kinsa lay alone in her ship, trying to work through the specifics of her last few missions. She knew she had to deal with this but, at the same time, she yearned for something, anything, to distract her from this moment of self-reflection. Ever since she had learned about the Grey Jedi and after she had slaughtered those women in the desert, she felt as if she had been infected by some sort of virus. With each consecutive mission, she was becoming more and more violent in her encounters. She was calling in for less prisoner transport and leaving more bodies behind her. She had started reaching for her lightsaber more often than the stun baton. She wasn't fully sure what had happened; in the moments after the fights, she had always been able to explain away and justify her decisions, but she knew the truth. She simply had less sympathy and love for the followers of the Dark side. She had been taught as a Jedi that the Dark side corrupted people, that all beings were born pure and all could be redeemed, but she just didn't believe it anymore, and after seeing Master Liftling's hypocrisy with the children she had rescued, she didn't think the Jedi actually believed it either.

After seeing firsthand the works of these people, she truly believed they were evil, not that the Dark side within them was evil or the things they did were evil, but that, at the core of their being, some people were simply evil. She tried to pretend she didn't believe this, repeating the words of the Jedi doctrine in her head, but those were just words and, after seeing the actions of such people in person, those words seemed empty.

She understood now why not every Jedi could be a Shadow. She'd been doing it for less than two years and she could feel herself hardening: she could feel the light being slowly squeezed out of her. She wasn't sure how to stop it. She'd stopped reading the philosophy of the Grey Jedi; even if she believed it she could tell it was having a negative effect on her.

A high-pitched beeping broke out and interrupted her thoughts. She turned to her side and stared at her blinking communicator with dread. She wasn't ready for another mission yet. She wasn't sure if Jedi, especially Shadows, were allowed to take breaks, but she knew she couldn't continue on. It would be letting down the Galaxy: who knows all the destruction that would take place while she was gone? But if she continued on she would be no help to anyone, this path led to the Dark side. She needed some time to bathe in the light before she was forced down into the darkness again. Her entire life now was either drowning in darkness or suffocating in isolation, and the isolation was itself becoming all too dark. She would tell the council she needed some time back at the temple before she went back into the field. Strange, she thought to herself, how a place she had begun to despise was now looked at as a sanctuary. How foolish she had been.

Kinsa swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up slowly, her head pounding from the sudden change and from the unceasing thoughts bouncing around. She took a calming breath and answered the call.

Master Sifu's face appeared in the transparent blue flickering hologram. She smiled for a moment, happy to see a familiar face, before realizing something was wrong. He looked frantic and instead of his customary calmness he seemed to be exploding with panic.

"Kinsa." He practically yelled at her. "We need you to come back to the Jedi temple immediately. We've received a declaration of war."

A moment of stunned silence followed; Kinsa was unable to take in the information: another war so soon after being devastated by the Sith Empire. How would the Republic stand? So many planets were hardly held by the Republics grasp; another war would cost the Republic almost a third of the worlds in the alliance.

"Who?" she blurted out suddenly. "Who would attack the Republic?"

Was it a group of separatists within the Republic or some strange unknown enemy from beyond the Outer-Rim territories?

"It's not the Republic they've declared war on; it's us, it's the Jedi. A large cult of Dark-side followers has issued war. Come to Coruscant immediately; we can discuss it there in person. And mention this to know one," he added. "Very few outside of the council are privileged to this information."

Master Sifu's panicked face blinked out of existence and Kinsa was once again alone in her ship, floating through space.

War. On the Jedi. The Sith had been destroyed; how could there be a coalition of Dark-siders large enough to challenge the Jedi without anyone knowing about it until now? Kinsa was a Shadow; it was her job to hunt down and destroy cults like this, and she could have nipped this in the bud. She brushed aside the pang of guilt; even if she had encountered the cult, she couldn't have stopped them all by herself. She moved to her cockpit and set a course for Coruscant; there was no point wasting time beating herself up about things she couldn't change. The council must have had a reason to bring her in on this information. She would do everything she could now.

" **T** ry harder!" Darth Millennial screamed at his cowering apprentices, his voice rising above the cracking lightning. They were all cramped in his meditation chamber, him and ten of his most promising students. Streams of electricity exploded from his fingertips and soared above the heads of his kneeling acolytes. He was trying to encourage them, trying in vain to unlock something within them.

He had always believed divination was the greatest of the Force's gifts, and so he had always trained his followers in the subtle art. Now, in his time of need, he was testing them; the Force was testing them. The Great Force had taken his gift away from him so these lucky acolytes would have a true test: a test they were failing miserably. So far they had only managed to divine insignificant prophesies, nothing he wanted and nothing the Force wanted. She had not taken his gift from him for these pointless prophesies. He shot another bout of lightning; one of his younger followers screamed as a bolt arced by her, frightening her and making her hair stand straight. The rest of his loyal followers ignored her and continued chanting under their breath.

No matter how hopeless it seemed now, he would not doubt. Soon they would tap into the Force's endless wisdom, sip from the cup he had drunk from so deeply on countless occasions. Soon this would all be over and he could get on with his life.

 **N** amon was relaxing on his ornate, wooden seat, attempting to will the pounding in his temples to stop, organizing this was taking its toll. No matter how many people he placed beneath him to deal with problems, everyone's complaints somehow managed to find their way to him. He had just dismissed his attendants; he would deal with it all tomorrow.

This wasn't the kind of work Namon was used to. He had been a warrior on Barab 1, spending his time hunting and fighting to protect the borders of his forest. When he left his tribe, all he had to do was take care himself; he hunted to survive and fought other Barabel's when he had to. On Aargonar, he had spent all his time with Darth Cognus learning and training. He had always taken care of himself, always working to hone his skills and become smarter. Here, he just sat on his seat of power and dealt with the problems of other people; he felt tired and worn out, yet stagnant at the same time. When he came here to take over the cult, he'd assumed all he would need to do is tell his members what to do and bide his time until the war. Instead, he had to weigh options and make decisions; no-one ever seemed happy with him.

A sudden tingling at the edge of his perception interrupted his train of thought and blocked out his pounding headache. He focused on the feeling, certain it represented some kind of danger. He stood slowly to his feet and grabbed his sword up from where it was leaning against his chair. Three beings, their faces obscured by hoods and featureless masks, filed into his tent and stood before him in a triangle formation.

"You don't deserve to lead," the man in the middle practically yelled at him.

All three of them drew their lightsabers and ignited them simultaneously. The being on the left had a large double bladed lightsaber while the others had a standard lightsaber design.

"You three take time planning that?" he taunted them.

He could practically see their angry faces as they crouched down, ready to strike.

While he was good with his new weapon, Namon's defences were still weak; he was certain if he battled them all at once he would fall.

He launched at them before they could coordinate an attack. He came down in the middle of them, slamming the ground with his fist and sending out a shockwave of Force, knocking all three beings off their feet and onto their backs.

He grabbed his sword with his left hand and swung out, aiming to cut down the man with the double bladed lightsaber. The man brought his weapon up and blocked the attack with the right blade of his weapon. The masked man shifted to the left and swung the left side of his lightsaber up, aiming for Namon's arm. Namon shifted his sword to block, then kicked the man in the side, cracking multiple ribs and forcing him to drop his weapon.

From the corner of his eye, he saw another attacker beginning to rise to his feet. He spun quickly to address him, his sword outstretched and aiming for the attacker's torso. The would-be assassin was completely unprepared and Namon's sword sliced through his side and was buried deep in the man's chest. Namon suddenly felt an alarm of danger. He could practically see the third assassin's lightsaber as it moved to bore into his lower back.

His sword was stuck in the man's chest and he didn't have time to turn and block what was sure to be a killing blow. On an impulse he didn't understand or question, Namon stayed still and used the Force to create a barrier between him and his assailant's weapon. It felt similar to the act of creating a Force cushion around oneself to protect from a fall or a crash,. but thicker and in a specific location as opposed to a thin layer of protection all over.

He felt a searing pain on the small of his back that spread quickly to the rest of his back and he feared his improvised defence had failed him; instinctively, he jumped forward to get away from the pain. He whirled around, using the momentum of the spin to yank his sword from the middle of the dead man's chest, and faced his assassin. He was surprised to find he could still stand and move; his defences must have at least partially worked. He quickly swung his sword up and over his head, then pulled it down with all his strength onto the hooded man.

The failed assassin was clearly surprised that Namon hadn't died from his last stab. He scrambled to bring his lightsaber up over his head to block Namon's terrible, over handed chop. He managed to get a sloppy, two-handed reverse grip block up before Namon's blade connected with the beam of energy. It made a strange clang-clack sound that Namon had gotten used to. The strength of Namon's blow overpowered the man's rushed guard and forced his arms to buckle under the weight, still holding on to the lightsaber. Both Namon's blade and the mysterious man's lightsaber were pressed down by Namon's strength until the lightsaber cut into the man's collarbone. He screamed out in pain as the beam of light burned a line through his chest, followed quickly by Namon's blade. The man's arms bent back unnaturally and he released his lightsaber; it extinguished as the hilt dropped to the ground. Namon's sword continued carving into the man until it stopped just above his abdomen; the man's pained screams had ceased.

Namon lifted his foot and placed it on the man's still twitching chest, kicking forward slowly and forcing the man to slide off his hungry blade and drop unceremoniously to the ground. Namon moved slowly towards the last living attacker. He stabbed his sword into the ground and stared down, looming over the man who was still writhing around on the ground, moaning in pain. Apparently, Namon's kick had done more damage than he'd first thought. Namon used the Force to rip the man's mask off, exposing a familiar face. It was one of the former cult leaders he had demoted, resulting in the man and a dozen other former members to flee. Namon had been planning to torture this survivor to find out who had sent them, but now that was unnecessary. Clearly, some of the former cult leaders couldn't handle their loss of power and so were planning to come back and steal his followers from him.

Namon almost smiled as he stood over the dying man; obviously, he had made the correct choice by not making these three men generals in his army. Their amazingly quick failure proved them unworthy. He reached out to the man with the Force and grabbed him, bringing him to his feet. The man was either too hurt or too afraid to speak; all that came from his mouth were whimpers and moans of pain. Namon stared at the man, his stare boring into the man's quivering, begging eyes.

"Failure," he whispered harshly.

For a moment, Namon considered leaving the man to die painfully and slowly, or even to torture him for daring to attack the Lord Marshall, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The man was defeated and to continue this would be a waste of his time and would bring him down to the level of these failures.

He reached behind him and called his sword to the hand with the Force. He wrapped his hand around the long hilt and slashed at the man floating centimeters above the ground. His swords cut into the man's neck, slicing through the vertebrae and leaving his head hanging backwards, dangling by the smallest amount of flesh.

He wasn't sure how, but he knew he'd have to get rid of the three mutilated bodies. If any of the elites found out about the assassination attempt, they would insist on giving him a personal guard to protect against future attempts. Namon, however, needed time to himself; if there were people around him at all times, the chances of them finding out what he truly was increased exponentially.

He bent down slowly to pick up one of the bodies, but stopped when he felt a sharp stab of pain in his lower back. He reached behind him and felt for the small of his back to see what had happened. There was a sticky circular hole surrounded by his hard scales. His scales were melted away into a strange soupy-like material; he stuck his finger into it and found the squishy mess only went about three centimeters deep before reaching the thick skin beneath his scales.

Apparently his Force defence had been enough to save his life but not quite enough to block out the attack completely. This was an exciting prospect. His defence had always been the least effective part of his fighting, his sword being so much heavier than a lightsaber. If he could find a way to stop a lightsaber completely with only his body, he would be unstoppable.


	15. Chapter 15

**Cardiaccane:** Thanks, I'm glad that I did an okay job with the fight scenes, I've also always had some difficulty following the action of certain authors and its nice to hear that I made it understandable.

 **A/N:** So I usually have a line of asterisks to break up my scenes but they didn't copy over from my word document, so now I'm using a space, bold first letter, and indent to signify change of scene and/or perspective. Sorry for confusion. Also, only one chapter this week, the next one is ridiculously long.

 **As always, Reviews/critiques/questions are welcome.**

 **15**

 **K** insa stood in the overcrowded council room as she, the councilors and a handful of Masters watched the message. She felt under qualified to be in this room. She was the only Knight in the entire room; the Masters around her were the stuff of legend. She assumed she had Master Sifu to thank for her being here now; he had taken a special interest in her ever since Master Rilth had died.

"We are The Bogan." the tall, spindly Kaleesh standing in the foreground declared in a deep ominous voice.

Kinsa recognized it as the name for the Dark side of the Force the ancestors of both the Jedi and Sith on the deep core world of Tython used. Ashla had been the name for the light side and at the time the Force users had focused and mediated on both sides of the Force. It spoke volumes that the cult was so well-informed on the history of the Force.

"We declare a challenge to the order that was once the Jedi: a challenge to the empty husk that once housed the warriors and protectors of the Galaxy."

A flash of anger filled Kinsa for a moment, the kind of anger that comes from hearing something that digs deep and hits a nerve of truth. The room around her stiffened for a moment, all recognizing the rumoured name the young Knights were planning to adopt. Clearly, she wasn't the only one feeling defensive about the man's words. The fact that the cult seemed to have some inside information on the Jedi's workings worried her.

"Not a true war: one simple battle on any planet or moon of your choosing; neither order leaves until one is destroyed. If we do not receive a response within three months, we will descend upon a populated planet of your precious Republic and eradicate every sentient being. So, let us see if any of the..."

The rest of the words suddenly faded away as Kinsa focused on the large hooded figure behind the speaker. She had assumed he was the second-in-command or else a cowardly leader who was afraid to speak and reveal himself to the Jedi. She had felt a strange feeling of familiarity about him, his size and the way he stood. Now she knew. This was Rogin; she was sure of it.

"Masters!" she exclaimed suddenly.

The room turned and faced her, some with questioning faces; others were clearly annoyed by her intrusion. Master Liftling sighed audibly and put her hand to her head in a show of frustration. Kinsa ignored the dismissal of Master Lifting and continued on.

"I'm sorry for my outburst but I know the man standing in the back. It's Rogin." She paused for a moment, slightly embarrassed. "The Barabel I let escape my custody."

"Are you sure, Kinsa?" Master Sifu asked her. "How can you tell?"

"I'm. I'm not sure how I know; I can just tell. I'm a hundred percent certain it's him. We need to stop him. I need to stop him."

Kinsa knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't handle the idea that the man she had let escape was leading the attack against the Jedi.

"Calm down, Jedi Knight," Master Liftling told her. "We need to take time and discuss before we rush in."

Kinsa couldn't take it anymore. "Discuss? For how long? "

She knew this wasn't the place for this, but she couldn't help it. Her voice raised as her frustrations with the Jedi came out.

"It's already been a week since you received the threat and you haven't even gotten around to discussing it?"

The Jedi masters looked at each with concerned judging looks. Eventually, Master Sifu broke the still silence.

"Kinsa, please," he began, speaking slowly; his soothing voice calmed her immediately. "We've already talked about it and a few options have been discussed, but we still need to decide. But I assure you, whatever we choose, you will be involved. I know how important stopping this man is to you."

Kinsa saw the other Masters casting questioning glances at each other, second-guessing Master Sifu's decision to involve her. Luckily, they kept silent.

"We were able to track the origin of the message to Shareen, a planet on the inner ridge of the Outer-Rim. Grand Master Liftling," Sifu continued. "Thinks it would be a good idea to inform the Republic of this threat and descend on the planet with the full Force of the Republic.

"But the Republic is still reeling from the war, a war many of their citizens consider to be our war that they were forced to fight and die in; they may not even agree to help, especially not with all the accusations still floating around about Senator Ston"

An awkward silence fell over the room as the Jedi all avoided each other's gazes; Kinsa almost groaned aloud. All this time and, of course, the Jedi still hadn't had an official discussion about the assassination everyone blamed the Jedi for.

"Well," Kinsa said, her voice cutting through the terrible silence. "We don't have to fight on their terms; if we know where they are, can't we assemble the Jedi quickly and attack in Force before they are ready?"

"It would be too risky. They made it much easier than they had to, to trace the message; it could be a trap. We have no idea how fortified the planet is or what we would be facing when we go there. I firmly believe our only option is to comply with their demands."

"And just launch into another war?" Master Croul ejected. He was a Korun, a species of dark-skinned, Force-sensitive, near humans from the jungle-filled planet, Haruun Kal. He was younger than most members of the Jedi Council, but he had the reserved demeanor of an older Master.

Master Liftling spoke up. "He's right; who would fight? The Padawans? The barely-trained Jedi Knights? The handful of weary Masters have left? Should we bring the younglings to battle as well? Another war would mean the end of the order completely. You said yourself master Sifu, we have no idea what we'd be facing."

"And what would you have us do?" Master Sifu asked, raising his voice for the first time Kinsa could remember. "Just sit back and watch as they raze planet after planet until someone else steps up and stops them? We are the Jedi and they are followers of the Dark side. This is why our order was formed, to protect the citizens of the Republic from this evil."

"We can't protect the Galaxy if we are destroyed by this Dark cult," Master Liftling responded, her voice rising to match Master Sifu's.

"What's the point of this order if we don't even try? We might as well be destroyed."

"I could go," Kinsa yelled, tired of this clearly pointless bickering. "I can go in and find out more about this cult and report it back to you. So that way we would have an advantage before the fighting begins."

Kinsa was fed up with the silences that continually took hold of this council room. They were all sitting still, facing her and waiting for someone else to shoot the idea down.

Finally, after what felt like a minute, a human Jedi master, not on the council, spoke out. "But according to you, you've had an interaction with their leader. How can you expect to infiltrate their cult without being recognized?"

"I'll disguise myself. I've done it before when taking down smaller cults," She countered quickly. "I can change the colour of my skin with body paint and use contacts to change the colour of my eyes. I will give myself fake tattoos and perhaps a scar or two.

"And," she continued before they could bring up more questions. "I can easily disguise my Force signature; I've done that before as well, so it won't be a problem."

"It's not that we doubt your abilities, but can you obscure it permanently? All day, for months at a time?" Master Sifu asked her. "Even a momentary break would compromise the entire mission and most likely cost you your life."

Kinsa took a moment to think about the question. If she couldn't do it she would blow the entire operation, putting not only herself but the rest of the Jedi in danger. She wanted more than almost anything to do this herself, but she had to be sure she wasn't letting her pride get in the way; she knew there were dozens of other Jedi who would be able to do it. This was about what was best for the Jedi and the people they would be protecting, not just what soothed her personal guilt and stoked her pride.

After a short moment of deliberation, she decided that this would be her mission. She had been called to this council room, a place she clearly didn't belong, and the Force had shown her Rogin; she believed it was for a reason. She was being given the chance to fix her mistake; there was no way she would sit back while her mess destroyed the Jedi without trying to help.

"I can do it." She said confidently."

The Jedi Masters looked around at each other, each waiting for someone else to speak up; no-one seemed to want to make a decision. Eventually their eyes all settled on Master Sifu, who seemed to be assuming the leadership role of the operation; he paused for a moment before speaking.

"Then you'll do it."

 **T** hey were useless, every last one of them. He gave them everything they had, yet still they failed him - pathetic. They were pathetic for their failure and he was pathetic for trusting in such weaklings. For months, maybe years now, who knows, they had been coming up with hundreds of visions but nothing pertaining to him, nothing he needed. How could they be so useless? Why would the Force give them all of this and yet give them nothing they truly needed.

He stopped cold suddenly: the Force wouldn't do that; it was impossible, there had to be something more. A thought rose up in his mind, growing rapidly the more he focused on it; perhaps they were holding the information back. The Force was desperate to tell him what he needed to know, but they were withholding the information. His followers knew he was weak and so they were trying to take advantage of it. The longer he thought about it the more he could feel it, a malicious anger in the air, swirling all about him; none of them could be trusted.

 **W** hile his generals were ecstatic, Namon was worried about the growing size of his army. Ever since they had sent the challenge to the Jedi, new Dark-siders had been flooding in for the chance be a part of the army that would defeat the Jedi. He wasn't sure who had let it leak, but at this point, it didn't matter. Almost three hundred new members had tried to join the cult. He'd had to turn some people away, disguising it by creating a sort of try-out system and denying entrance to anyone who failed to pass it. So far, almost one hundred Dark siders had been added to the ranks of the Bogan; he'd had to create an entire new Battalion to accommodate the new members. If they kept growing like this, Namon was afraid they may have a chance against the Jedi.

 **K** insa stared at herself in the mirror, a habit she had before starting each mission. She had been seeing herself change slowly each mission; now, however, the change was deliberately drastic.

She had died her skin with semi-permanent body paint so that it was a dark orange instead of her usual pale yellow. Thick black tattoos roped their way around her body and all the way up to her neck; she even had some on her Lekku's as the more adventurous Twi'leks had taken to doing. With colour contacts, she had made her bright green eyes the customary yellow of a Dark side user. She had replaced her traditional brown garb with a deep red robe, the hood pulled low over her face. She'd had to move her Lekku from where she usually had them hanging behind her to over her chest so her head could fit in the hood. To top it off, she gave herself a couple small scars and a large burn over her left eye that covered the scar Rogin had given her during their first encounter. After all the changes, she could hardly recognize herself; she doubted anyone else could, never mind someone who had only seen her for a few hours.

She turned from her mirror and dropped the platform down of her personal ship, an inconspicuous, inexpensive personal cruiser. She took a deep breath as stepped off the ramp onto the planet, preparing for the assault of Dark side energy she was used to experiencing. Instead of the oppressive sickness she was used to, all she felt as she took her first steps was a slight feeling of discomfort. Her eyes widened and she panicked. Did this mean she had turned over to the Dark side? Why wasn't it affecting her like it normally did?

Before she could continue freaking out, she remembered her Force signature. On her long journey to this planet she had been practicing her new Dark Force signature. It made sense that she would be more used to feeling the Dark side of the Force around her. She relaxed in time to notice her ship was surrounded by hooded, masked figures she assumed were guards.

She was unprepared for this, Kinsa thought to herself, as she walked up to the masked guards; she'd expected to have more time before she was inspected. Even though it didn't make her sick, the darkness on this planet was still astounding; she could feel it all around her. With every breath she felt like it was filtering into her soul. She wasn't used to being surrounded by so many Dark siders. It was like the anti-thesis of being back in the Jedi temple.

"I'm here to join the Bogan," she told the two mysterious figures before her.

They looked at each other for a moment and Kinsa felt something pass between them.

"Come with us," one of them told her. His deep voice resonated from behind the mask. "You must be tested."

Kinsa once again felt unprepared; she hadn't expected a there to be a tryout. The fact that they had a trial for their applicants made her think more highly of the organization and skill of their army. She followed behind the two figures as they led her to a gigantic wooden room. It looked so strange and out-of-place, a random wooden box with no ceiling in the middle of a dry field. They walked around to the entrance; it was a small door that opened to a long hallway, but she couldn't see past a large wall blocking her path.

"You need to make it through to the end," the man said simply. "No weapons." He held out his hand to her.

Kinsa unclipped her lightsaber, her yellow crystal replaced with a synthetic red one, and handed it to the masked man. He took it from her and gestured for her to begin.

As she bent down, ready to sprint down the long hallway, she noticed the reflection off a large pool of what she assumed was water just before the high wall. She exploded forward, using the Force to propel her at a blinding speed. The walls rushed by her side in streaks and within a few seconds she came to the pool; she jumped, using her Force augmented speed to clear over the water. She slammed hard into the wooden wall, absorbing the energy with her arms and legs. Before gravity could take hold of her, Kinsa dug her grippy boots into the wall and shot up with all her might, flying over to the other side of the wall. She started falling blindly and found herself quickly descending on a row of metal spikes. Thinking quickly, Kinsa kicked backwards, pushing off the wall behind her with both feet. She tucked herself into a ball and managed to barely skirt over the tall metal spikes. She landed on the hard ground and rolled to her feet. As soon as she started to run again, Kinsa felt something at her side; she turned to her left to see a blaster bolt screaming towards her head. Instinctively, she spun and fell, flopping face first into the ground. She avoided the blaster bolt and, in return, she slammed her face against a stone jutting out from the ground. It cut into her cheek and, as she slid, it continued scraping into her face; no doubt, it would add to her various scars, both real and fake. Jagged rocks cut into her robes as she slid along the rough ground. As she slid, she heard something break and feared she had lost another tooth. After a couple seconds, her head cleared up and she pushed off with her hands, springing back to her feet. Her tongue searched her mouth as she ran.

Yupp. She thought to herself as she felt the jagged, broken gap in one of her bottom front teeth, there goes the first casualty of this war.

Without warning, two men brandishing lightsabers fell from the open ceiling and blocked her path. Without slowing, Kinsa gathered Force for a moment before releasing it in a wave at the two men. The large human on the right was pushed to the side; he bounced off the wooden wall, causing it to bend and splinter, and then fell still into the dirt. The smaller man, however, absorbed the Force energy and transformed it into something more lethal. He held on to her power for a moment, then released it in a thin stream of bright blue lightning. Kinsa was still extremely uncomfortable with her ability to control lightning; most of the cults she had dismantled had few or no members strong enough to control the deadly Dark side ability. In a rush, she dashed to the side rather than try to deal directly with the lightning. Her move was overdone and she bumped into the wall, not hard enough to hurt her but hard enough to trip her up. She fell forward, barely able to tuck into a roll before slamming her face into the ground once again. Just as she was getting to her feet, the small human lunged at her, his lightsaber extended. This time Kinsa didn't dive out of the way; she waited until he was close and fell back to her unarmed combat training. She swung her right arm out, connecting her forearm to the man's wrist and forcing his arm and lightsaber harmlessly wide. His momentum was too much for him to stop, however, and he continued towards her. She brought her left elbow up so it slammed into his chin as he sped towards her. The man was stopped cold and knocked off his feet. His forward momentum caused him to flip backwards, landing flat on his face behind her as she ran on. Kinsa left the two men behind and continued her run; she wasn't sure how quickly she had to finish this course to make it into the army but she wasn't about to test the limits.

She almost sighed as yet another man dropped from the sky and charged towards her; Kinsa refused to slow down for this one. She ran straight forward, gaining speed as if she meant to ram into him, waiting for him to attack first. When he did, she easily ducked under his predictable stab and used the Force to augment a punch aimed for his knee. The blow connected and she felt the bones shatter beneath her fist. The man screamed out in pain and dropped to the ground, holding his knee; Kinsa ran on without looking back. A few Bacta treatments and he would be fine.

The previously straight path made a sharp left turn and she veered quickly to the left to follow it. She was expecting something big to surprise her after the turn, but still she was unprepared for what was facing her. A barrage of blaster bolts, so many of them they almost seemed to form a solid wall, came flying towards her. She started to reach for her lightsaber before remembering she had given it up. She ran on, and used her heightened adrenaline to gather Force.

Just before the bolts shredded into her she created a shield around herself with the Force, similar to what she did when she cushioned herself from a fall but much more intense. With a deep breath filled with hope and fear she jumped, holding herself horizontal and spinning in an effort to provide less surface area for the blaster bolts to hit. She practically flew through the assault, her Lekku sticking out like chopper blades as she rotated. Any of the red streaks that came into her path simply disintegrated as their energy was absorbed by the hedge of protection she had created around herself. To her slight surprise and great relief she made it through without any injury.

She continued sailing past the guns that had fired at her but then she started to fall. The ground rushed up at her as she lost altitude, too quickly for her to adjust. She landed hard on the other side of the spitting turrets; she stuck her hands out to catch herself, but she was going too fast. Her wrist bent and she felt certain it snapped; she turned her face to the side just as it burrowed into the ground. She felt the tiny rocks cut into the right side of her face as she slid; the impact sent dust flying into her mouth, sending her into a fit of coughing. She lay there for a moment completely exhausted; her adrenaline was gone and she felt as if she had somehow used up all her Force. Normally, she could draw on the living Force around her to rejuvenate herself, but she was hesitant to try and draw on the Force in a place of such darkness. Her wrist throbbed painfully and her mouth felt dry and gritty.

Slowly, she recovered and felt she was ready to stand up. Holding her left wrist close to her body, she pushed with her right hand, moving to all fours. As her legs scraped across the ground, a sharp stabbing pain in her thigh stopped her. She looked down to see a stone of concerning size jutting out from her right leg just under her hip.

"How could one place have so many kriffing stones?" she asked under her breath.

Perhaps they were placed here on purpose. She rolled to her left side, still not wanting to put any weight on her left wrist, and reached down to take hold of the stone. Gritting her teeth, she painfully jerked the stone from her leg. A slow flow of blood poured from the deep hole in her flesh.

Kinsa took a couple of calming breaths before falling back onto her stomach and trying again. This time, she ignored the pain in her leg and got to her knees. She got her right foot under her and forced herself to stand up, walking unsteadily out of the wooden box back into the open field.

Two guards - she had no way to tell if they were the same ones that had brought her here - stood still and stoic outside the obstacle course. She walked towards them, moving slowly, trying to stand straight and keep the pain of every movement out of her face.

"Very impressive," one of the guards told her, surprising Kinsa with a sweet, female voice. "almost none make it the whole way through and even less do so with such ease and speed."

Kinsa was extremely confused; she definitely didn't feel she had done any of that with ease or speed. She felt like she had been lying at the exit for at least five minutes.

"So what happens to the people who don't make it?" she asked.

It seemed harsh, even for followers of the Dark side, to kill someone for not completing such a difficult task that apparently almost no one completed.

"Well, if we believe they make it far enough, we let them sleep it off and they are invited to join the Bogan; those were only stun bolts and the people you fought are under strict orders not to kill. Our location is no secret, so we have no reason to threaten or kill those who fail, they are simply turned away," the woman replied.

"The Lord Marshal will want to see her," the masked woman said, turning to the other guard.

Now Kinsa was worried. Before, she had been working hard to make sure she made it into the army, but now she thought she should have done worse. She didn't want to be noticed; she just wanted to fit into the middle of the army, not stand out.

The silent guard nodded.

"Follow us," the woman told her, with a possible hint of kindness in her voice.

The two guards turned and started walking towards a large group of tents. She followed behind them, her worry rising with each painful step. She was confident with her ability to disguise herself in a crowd, but she hadn't expected or prepared to meet Rogin by herself; she would have to be absolutely perfect.

 **A** fter the failed assassination attempt, Namon had stepped up his training, even going so far as to transform his personal tent into a training room. He had become too soft in his time away from Darth Cognus and his regimented training. The planning was basically completed and now all that was left was tiny, minute details that weren't on any real consequence; he refused to deal with such foolishness. So now, instead of talking around his table, he and his generals spent their time in this room training together, honing their skills and learning techniques to teach their troops. If there was anything to be dealt with, it was discussed with haggard breath during the training. At the moment, he was simply training by himself, working his sequences, practicing new defence techniques. He'd learned through research that the new ability he'd accidently learned was known to the Jedi as Tutaminis. It was the practice of using the Force to absorb or dissipate energy such as a blaster bolt, lightning, or a lightsaber with your body. It was apparently extremely rare to be able to block a direct lightsaber strike; he figured he owed that at least in part to his thick scales.

He stopped suddenly when he felt someone approaching: after the assassination attempt, he had also become more perceptive of his surroundings. As he paused he heard soft steps crunching the dry grass outside his tent. He turned to the entrance just as two elites walked in, escorting a scuffed Twi'lek he didn't recognize. Only the elites, the guards of their compound and the best fighters in the army, were allowed to enter his personal tent without permission.

Natheera, one of the female elites, addressed him first. "Lord Marshal, this is Dareen. She completed the course in record time. I know you've been searching for a general to lead the new troops and I believe she could be a candidate. She showed great control over the Force, impressive quick decision skills and she kept a cool head under pressure."

Nervousness seeped from the woman's pores; Namon could smell it. He reached with the Force and studied the woman. He felt her strength, her courage and determination. He could feel her yearning for power, the desire for more that was the same within all Dark siders, buried deep inside. He felt something else buried deep inside her, some secret she was keeping locked away.

He stepped towards the woman and placed his palm lightly on her sweaty forehead. He felt her stiffen at his touch, reinforcing his belief that she was hiding something. He delved into her, searching through her soul. Her very being flew past him, her pain and anger, her hopes and beliefs, then he finally he found what he was looking for.

As he dug deeper and deeper into her, he suddenly felt the Light side within her. She was holding it locked within her, hiding within a shell of Darkness. He penetrated the layer of false Darkness and was suddenly surrounded by the sickly sweetness of the Light side. He was about to leave her, his spirit repulsed by the pool of light he was drowning in, when he felt recognition. He'd been around this Jedi before; this was his captor and momentary Master, Kinsa. Namon went back into himself and stared down at the Jedi. Now that he knew who she truly was, he could see beneath her disguise. He could feel the artificial makeup of her Dark Force signature and he recognized her physical form beneath her new, darker appearance.

He considered what to do with her now. If this was a true army, he would either kill her or feed her false information and let her send it back to the Jedi; this situation, however, was much more complicated. He wanted the Jedi to win the coming war. Besides, the fake Darkness she had conjured for his benefit had more than a hint of reality to it. He had felt her hunger for greater things and her disillusionment of the Light side. Namon was interested to see if he could feed the Darkness inside her while at the same time making sure the Jedi defeated his sham army.

"No. She will not lead," he declared. "She has great potential but she is not ready; she still has a lot to learn. Dareen, you will become an elite.

"You." he said, pointing at Natheera. "You will teach her and train her and report her progress to me. Forego all your guard duties and work to integrate her into your squads until the attack."

He saw Kinsa's shoulders slump in relief. Natheera nodded her head in obedience and all three of them turned and left his tent. Namon went back to his training, extremely happy and interested with this new development.

 **D** arth Millennial sat alone in his chamber, hiding from the world of liars and traitors on the other side of the large stone doors. He was so certain of it now; the blinders of trust on his eyes had been lifted. These evil fools he once called followers were plotting to kill him. The gift that had been with him nearly since birth, the ability that helped him survive as a mutant, shunned by his people, had not abandoned him. It wasn't the Force that had betrayed him; it was the disgusting worms he himself had created. He had taken them from nothing, FROM NOTHING, and now it was coming back to bite him. He had treated them with kindness and love, rescuing them from a life of unimportant mediocrity. He gave them a chance to be someone, to have an effect; the greatest gift you can ever receive. If he had left them where, they were they would have only been ridiculed, pushed down and trod upon, instead of being held up before the plebeians like the gods they were. The average and plain always fail to see greatness; all they see is difference.

That was the life they were destined to live without him; that is what he had rescued them from. He was sure now that his vision was not from the Force; he had nothing to fear from a monstrous alien scum. The Force knew that and it would not warn him about something that posed no threat to him. The false visions were from his evil followers. They were projecting the image into his mind and trying to break him down, trying to erode him because they were afraid to attack him directly. He wouldn't waste time in preparing for a false threat from the outside when he needed to protect himself from within.

He talked to himself, the only one he could trust, as he scoured through his tomes and scrolls, pieces he had managed to steal from his Master before he had fled from her wrath as well as some things he'd found since he'd created the cult. He was searching for any mention of something that would grant him what he needed to defeat those fools. One of the many follies of his old Master was her distaste for talismans, objects imbued by past Sith lords with their strength that granted the wearer a more solid link to the Force. Darth Millennial however did not have such ridiculous prejudices. His fingers were stuffed with rings and he had necklaces and robes that greatly increased his connection to the Mistress; however, he knew none of this was enough. He needed to find something greater.


	16. Chapter 16

**16**

" **Y** ou're holding on too much," Natheera scolded her. "You need to use your emotions, let go of your restrictions. To create lightning you must feel the storm inside you, building up until you can't control it, and then release it. I'm actually surprised someone as clearly well trained as you hasn't had any experience with Force lightning."

Kinsa was standing with Natheera in the training grounds used only by the Elites, failing to create Sith lightning. Natheera had her mask off since they were surrounded by only other Elites and Kinsa got to match her voice to a face for the first time. She was a human woman, about the same size and weight as Kinsa. She had a heart-shaped face, her chin coming to a soft point. She had short, purple-black hair that reached the bottom of her earlobes. Her skin was ashen white and looked even lighter next to her dark hair. She had the yellow eyes customary to all Dark siders and they were surrounded by purple-black eye shadow that matched her hair. Marring her otherwise perfect face was a large scar going from her bottom lip to her chin. It was so large it seemed as if the corner of her bottom lip was gone. She had full lips with black lipstick, providing another stark contrast against her pale face. Even with the scar, she had beautiful, delicate features and was undeniably a stunning woman despite the influence of the Dark side.

Kinsa was in a strange sort of shooting range meant for Force lightning, facing a body dummy and trying to conjure electricity from her fingertips. She knew now why she had always had trouble controlling the strange ability. She'd never been someone who released her emotions, or dwelt on her anger and sadness. She had been trained for most of her life to block out and smother her emotions. Even before her time with the Jedi, living as an enforcer for the mob and then a homeless teenager, she had been forced to build a wall to keep her emotions at bay. Now she was being told to throw that all away; she knew she had to do it to fit in and continue her mission, but a part of her worried that she might not be able to control her emotions once she tore down that dam.

"Dig deep. Find your strongest emotions and let them simmer within you." Natheera continued, urging her on.

Kinsa knew the dangers of this activity, but she also knew she didn't have a choice; it was more dangerous not to do it. She had to sacrifice bits of herself for the good of the Jedi and of the Galaxy; after all, she told herself, this is what she had always wanted.

She thought back to the time before she had been found by Master Rilth. She had been living on Nar Shaddaa, using her Force to scare people into paying their debts to her bosses, a small mob organization. They used her because she was small and feminine and could get into almost anywhere, but had learned early on to use the Force to augment her strength.

Then she had become too famous on the large moon where word travelled fast. She'd tried to enter a club housing a mark, but she'd been recognized by one of the bouncers and beaten to a pulp. She'd dragged herself back to her employers, but they turned her away; since she was no longer a secretive option, there wasn't a point in keeping her around. They left her bruised, broken, and alone.

Those feelings were unlocked now, the feelings of helplessness and betrayal she had felt and the anger she had used to mask those emotions. She thought back to how she had felt when the three sorceresses had attacked her in the desert, the vulnerability and confusion.

A dark whirlwind formed in the pit of her being and swirled around inside of her, picking up bad memories and emotions, feeding itself and growing larger. Kinsa felt herself trembling and she looked down at her hands to see them shaking violently. The whirlwind of darkness continued to spin, gorging itself on all her raw, hidden emotions. It began picking up good things and good memories and shining its dark light on them, exposing their true, sinister underbelly. The Jedi, with their useless hypocrisy. Master Rilth, her beloved Master who'd taken a fragile girl and twisted her into a robot, an emotionless machine only to be used to fight in the war against the Sith. Her hands started to tremble slightly as the rocking storm within her started to affect her body.

It felt terrible; she tried to stop it, tried to protect her precious memories, but she couldn't. All that she'd thought was good in her life was being taken over by the whirlwind of rage and burned away until only the darkness remained. She just needed this to stop; she needed the pain to end.

The shaking in her hands spread to her arms as she raised them up, pointing them at the dummy. She released it, all the terrible emotions and painful, burning memories. A wave of pure searing pain roared through her veins and exploded out her palms.

Deep purple, almost black lightning streamed from her hands and shot forth, disintegrating the dummy and burning up the air around her. The lightning continued pouring out of her, spreading wider and burning up the wooden structure around the dummy. She could hear people screaming around her, but she couldn't make out the voices or the words.

The flood of emotions stopped and so did the river of lightning. Kinsa dropped to her knees; the pain of the lightning and the rush of emotions that had been bottled up for so long proved too much. Kinsa saw Natheera's fuzzy form rush to her side just as the shroud of darkness closed over her completely.

 **S** lowly Kinsa tore at the fog around her, the pall smothering her falling away piece by piece. Her vision cleared and she awoke in the room she had been sleeping in since she'd arrived a couple of days ago to see Natheera and five other Elites she didn't know with their masks off, staring down at her.

"Are you okay, Dareen?" Natheera asked, genuine concern etched across her face.

"Give her a bit of space, Natheera," an older Zabrak said. "She just woke up; she'll need some time to adjust."

Natheera nodded and all six beings took a small step away from her bed.

Kinsa placed her hands on the bed to push herself up to a sitting position but, as soon as she put any weight on them, her palms protested, sending a shockwave of pain throughout her body. She yelped in surprise, startling the six people around her. She looked down at her hands to see them wrapped in thin bandages.

"You burnt yourself. We got you wrapped up and you should be fine by tomorrow morning," a short human man spoke out. "The name's Flint," he told her. He had a huge smile on his face. His skin was a cinnamon colour and he had short, cropped black hair. "That was amazing what you did yesterday; none of us has seen anything like it."

Everyone around the bed nodded slightly in agreement.

"Yesterday?" Kinsa asked, her voice still warbly. "How long have I been asleep?"

"It was about fifteen hours; our squad has been taking turns waiting for you to wake up."

Looking around at the faces crowding her vision, Kinsa saw real care in their eyes. She had never expected followers of the Dark side to care for anyone, especially someone they had never met. She was still expecting this to be some trap, that somehow they had found out who she really was and this was all a strange ploy to put her at ease.

"Well, I was going to wait until you finished your preliminary training, but I suppose now is as good a time as any for you to meet the troops. There are thirteen more of us, but you can meet them when you're feeling better. You know me, of course, and Flint's already introduced himself. This is Nos." She gestured to the Zabrak who had spoken before.

It was strange that this man and Master Sifu had come from the same species. Kinsa guessed they were about the same age, but they seemed completely different. For one thing, Master Sifu's skin was a pale brown while this man's was a deep, rich red. Master Sifu's tattoos, the ones all Zabraks received upon completing their rite of passage, were thin and brown, barely visible against his light skin. Nos' tattoos, however, were thick and black; they seemed to take over his entire face. The skin and the tattoos, plus his bright yellow eyes, made him seem very menacing, despite the kind look he gave Kinsa now, a stark contrast to Master Sifu's warm, calming face.

"This is Akku." She gestured to a tall humanoid whose species Kinsa didn't recognize. He was a large man with light skin and long jet black hair. Kinsa couldn't tell how old he was; he looked young but he had the attitude of an older, hardened warrior about him. Natheera must have seen the confusion in her face. "He's an Anzat."

Kinsa stiffened immediately upon hearing this. Anzats were one of the most mysterious and dangerous species in the entire Galaxy. They had long thin tentacles that were used to pierce through their victims and drain their life force. Everyone from their species were Force sensitives and almost all were evil, they were said to feed off the Force of other living sentients and, the stronger their victims, the more they gained from them. The oldest among them was known to have lived for over a thousand years; no-one truly knew how many of them there were; with their tentacles retracted they looked similar to humans and had no specific characteristics to identify them as anything but just another near-human species. They were also one of the oldest species in the Galaxy and their home world was almost completely unexplored by members of other species. There were even unconfirmed rumours that they had some sort of telepathic ability to control their victims and explore their mind. Kinsa had to calm herself to keep from shifting away from the man.

"Here we have Nansheell." She placed her arm on the shoulder of the woman beside her. She was a Chiss. Her skin was dark blue and her shining black hair was arranged in intricate braids. Her beautiful face was marred with a multitude of scars. Unlike most Dark siders who developed yellow eyes from constant use of the Dark side, Nansheel's eyes were red, one of the many defining characteristics of the Chiss species. The woman glared at Natheera until the human leader removed her hand from her shoulder; another trait customary to all Chiss was their inherent, staunch belief of superiority over all other species of the Galaxy.

"This is Malreen." She gestured to a final woman standing to the right of Kinsa.

The woman was a human, taller than average with a scrawny, slight build. She had impossibly dark, ebony skin, it was so dark it seemed to reflect a sort of purplish hue. The woman's yellow eyes, the pale colour overtaking the natural white sclera, shone forth from her dark, inky skin, the two orbs of light shining creepily like an animal's eyes on a dark night. Her hair was equally dark and tied in a dozen small braids, tight against her scalp. The tiny braids hung freely down her back, almost reaching her waist; the ends of the braids were each tipped with a sharp, silver cap. Besides her yellow eyes, the only colour on her face came from a red tattoo. It started on the right side of her forehead and came down in a jagged line to just above her eyebrow. At first glance, Kinsa had thought it to be a scar, certainly a normal assumption with the forces of the Dark side, but after looking at it for a moment she saw it was too bright and distinct to be a scar.

As she looked up at the woman, she gave her a smile, revealing two rows of white, sharpened teeth. While Kinsa knew the smile was a gesture of kindness, the strange, unnatural teeth only served to add to the terrifying air put forth by the woman. Kinsa thought that perhaps Malreen was not a human as Kinsa had first thought, but simply a near human species or some genetic offshoot of humans; there were dozens of such species in the Galaxy. A more likely explanation, however, was that she was a human but had simply sharpened all of her exposed teeth to look like canines in order to give her a more terrifying look. If that was the case, she had certainly succeeded.

Kinsa looked down from the woman's face and saw the lightsaber hanging from her belt. It was made of a bright silver metal, matching the metal on her braids, and had a multitude of crude spikes protruding from everywhere except a small area meant for grip. Clearly, this woman enjoyed being seen as a frightening figure.

"And, last but not least, we have Jer'ja." Before she could gesture to him, the tiny human who looked at most eighteen jumped to her, reaching out his hand to shake hers before quickly retracting it, remembering her injury.

"So amazing; it was probably the most amazing thing I've ever seen," he told her, talking so quickly she had a hard time understanding him. "Natheera says that was your first time? There's no way, right? I was on the other side of the grounds and I could swear I got singed a bit, I think I may have lost some hair." He patted his curly, bright orange hair quickly as if to double check that it was all still there.

Kinsa was amazed at how young he was. She couldn't imagine how well he would perform in a fight, but she supposed he must be good to be in a squad with the Elites. There was a chance the seemingly infinite splotches of freckles covering his face made him look younger than he actually was.

"Okay, okay," Nos said, seeing the overwhelmed look on her face. "She's met us; now I suggest we let her recover."

Natheera nodded. "All your equipment is back in your closet. Come find me when you're ready and we'll continue your training; you have great potential."

They all turned and left her room, Jer'ja giving her an erratic wave and flashing her a huge smile before stepping out her door.

She was glad Nos had gotten them to leave; this was all a lot for Kinsa to take in. She still had her actions from yesterday afternoon looming over her and now she had to deal with all these people she had just met. She didn't feel tired, but she also didn't feel up to getting up and facing the world just yet. She lay in her bed and stared up at the white speckled ceiling trying to sort through everything.

 **N** amon heard reports, not only from Natheera but from all over his army, about Kinsa's amazing display of the Dark side. She had apparently conjured an enormous storm of lightning that had destroyed almost the entirety of the practice range. It had caught the wood on fire and burned it to the ground, replacing the green grass with black scorched earth.

He'd never expected his plan to corrupt the Jedi would work so well or so quickly. Clearly, she had more Darkness within her than he had thought, and more potential. Few Jedi had ever possessed the ability to conjure even a sliver of Sith lightning and even fewer beings in the known Galaxy could create a torrent of such magnitude. He'd have to keep a closer, more personal eye on her; she could end up being of some use to him.

 **K** insa stood in the middle of the open auditorium, her heart beating fast in anticipation of the upcoming fights. She stared across the dirt at her four opponents: Jer'ja, Nansheell, a large female Selonian named Fulad and a human man named Drekk. Selonians were a large, furry, bipedal species. Fulad herself was over two meters tall with sleek golden brown fur covering her entire body. She had a small but useful tail that Kinsa had seen her use in combat. She had thick legs, packed with bulging muscle that could be seen through her fur, that allowed her to jump amazingly far and run extremely fast.

While they were bipedal creatures and usually stood upright Kinsa knew from experiences with other members of the species that they could and often did move on all fours. She was once told that they preferred not to do so in front of outsiders they didn't know because it made people see them as less intelligent, that walking on all fours made people see them as beasts.

Her arms, though strong, were disproportionately short and looked like they belonged on a smaller creature. At the end of her five fingers were razor-sharp, retractable claws., Kinsa had never seen Fulad use them in a combat situation, but it was always something to be wary of. In her paw-like hands she held a Great saber or a Light club. It was like a lightsaber but the beam shot out almost twice the length of an average lightsaber.

Drekk was a Caucasian male with light brown, straight hair that reached down to the very tops of his ears. He stood no more than one-and-three-quarter meters tall, the average height for a full-grown human. His build was slightly larger than normal, though he was not at all muscular enough to draw attention or distinction. His ruddy, slightly chubby face was dusted with a light fuzz of hair and dotted with several dark brown freckles. Through means unknown to Kinsa, the man didn't have yellow eyes like the rest of his Dark-side comrades, but had muddy brown irises with fully intact sclera. If there was one word Kinsa would use to describe the man on sight, it would be plain. He looked like just an average human, a face quickly forgotten that could blend easily into any crowd. The man's deceitful, unassuming nature extended also to his combat expertise.

He utilized a rare and largely unknown, or at least unexpected, form of lightsaber combat called Tràkata. It took advantage of the lightsaber's ability to turn off and on at will unlike a classic sword. It was a complex fighting system that was able to confuse a more skilled opponent. Besides its extreme difficulty to master, there were other reasons it was such a rare style among both the Jedi and Sith ranks.

Sith believed that their greatest strength, the thing that put them above the Jedi was their passion. That it was their single-minded devotion and their focus on their emotions gave them the edge, not practicality. The Tràkata fighting style required its user to take a step back, to fight more defensively and then wait for an opening. They couldn't use their emotions to fuel their strength because that would take away from the calculated planning that Tràkata required. The Jedi staunchly refused to utilize the technique because of their misguided code of honour. The holy Jedi refused to rely on what they saw as a deceptive tactic. The style was apparently invented by a Jedi Consular and technically wasn't forbidden, but it was certainly discouraged.

Drekk had two lightsabers strapped to his belt, one red and the other a pale yellow, similar actually to the colour of Kinsa's skin before she had covered herself in body paint. Even though he had two lightsabers, there were few times when he had both of them drawn and ignited. From what Kinsa had observed in the past, there seemed to be two distinct and deadly ways the man fought. The first was to would have both lightsabers in hand but not ignited. He would bob and weave, using his speed and hyper-awareness to predict and react to his opponent's attacks. Once his opponent was distracted enough, he would slip his hand in and ignite the lightsaber, changing the tide of battle instantly in his favor. The other extreme was to have his lightsabers, or at least one lightsaber, ignited and then fight normally against his opponent, allowing the normal ebb and flow of combat. As the fight went on, he would find opportune times to shut off his lightsaber, surprising his opponents and catching him or her off guard, usually forcing them to lose their balance. Drekk was able to use either of these extremes or anything in between to devastating effect. To an unsuspecting, unprepared opponent the dangerous tactics spelled immediate doom and to someone like Kinsa, someone who knew about the style and was expecting it, it meant she had to split her focus in order to avoid falling into a trap. It also meant she couldn't press as hard as normal when on the attack. If she put all her strength or speed into a sequence, it raised the chances of her being unable to react to an unexpected maneuver.

Jer'ja, who was only seventeen, was the strangest of all. He wielded the strange and rare lightwhip. It was a purely offensive weapon that emitted a long but flexible energy blade. It was strange and confusing and could easily disorient even the most trained opponents. The young man seemed to fly across the battle field, his feet hardly touching the ground. His whip swung erratically and seemingly randomly, somehow being everywhere at once. When she'd first seen him fight it seemed like he was completely out of control but she learned from watching him dismantle people that he was always in complete control.

Kinsa had learned over her few weeks here that it was much more common for the Elites to use strange variants of lightsabers than the average member of Rogin's army.

"Remember to utilize your emotions. Fight with passion, with a purpose," Natheera told her from her spot on the wooden bleachers.

Besides Natheera and the remaining troops in her squad, about forty members of Rogin's army dotted the stands waiting to see the fight unfold. Ever since her actions at the training ground, there had constantly been people following after her, waiting to see what she would do next.

"Fight with them and control them, but don't let them control you. If you become consumed by your passions, you will fly into a rage and fight like a mindless animal incapable of rational thinking. Some untrained beings fight like this, relying on their rage to overpower their enemies, but eventually they come against someone who doesn't cower at their eruptions of emotion and strength, and they are always defeated. You need to ride the line between control and anarchy to truly become a master at lightsaber combat."

These words seemed so strange to her; all her time with the Jedi she had been taught to fight devoid of emotion, that emotion led to mistakes. She had been told that, when Sith fought they did so blinded with fury and pain. These teachings had only been reinforced when she had become a Shadow. The beings she fought against charged at her wildly with reckless abandon, making dozens of foolish, haphazard mistakes. In these past weeks, she had been shown the real truth, not the Jedi's white-washed, filtered truth. When a true Sith fought, they used their emotions but were never a slave to them. She had become stronger, faster and better than she had ever been as a Jedi. She was still a Jedi, she reminded herself, it was just different now.

Now she was being matched against four of the Elites' best fighters in a row: Fulad, who used her strength and superior range to decimate her opponents. Nansheell who had worked her entire life to turn herself into a near perfect swordsman, utilizing the Makashi form of lightsaber combat, a noble dueling form created for the specific purpose of lightsaber-to-lightsaber combat; Drekk who used the cunning deceptive art of Tràkata and Jer'ja with his fantastic light whip.

"Okay, Nansheell, you're first."

Nansheell turned sideways and stalked forward slowly, her feet never crossing over, her lightsaber outstretched and her left hand on her hip. Instead of waiting for Nansheell to reach her, Kinsa simply leapt to the woman, landing in front of her with a wild slash. The Chiss easily parried the blow, counter-attacking with a shallow stab. Kinsa grabbed her lightsaber with both hands and swung, using the strength to overpower the woman's weaker one-handed grip. The blue-skinned woman's lightsaber was forced outward, leaving her body exposed. Kinsa kicked out at the Chiss' stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs and forcing her to double over.

Her red eyes flared with anger and she used the Force to push Kinsa away, surprising her and forcing her to take a couple steps back to stabilize herself. By the time she was ready to attack again, Nansheell was on the offensive. She came quickly with shallow stabs and measured slashes, moving too quickly for Kinsa to use her strength to overpower her. While she was extremely skilled, Nansheell was not perfect. Her arrogance led her to believe that she was everyone's better and Kinsa knew that if she kept her defences up long enough, Nansheell would get frustrated and lose control. Kinsa waited, keeping her eyes open for the first mistake. She could see frustration forming in Nansheell's face; her brow furrowed and she gritted her teeth beneath tightly-closed lips. She had never been able to defeat Kinsa in combat and Kinsa knew it was something that continually grated on her.

Tired of waiting, Kinsa made her move. She slowly backed away, putting a bit of extra space between them, forcing Nansheell to extend her attacks. After a few more seconds she brought her guard up slowly, barely blocking Nansheell's strike, ensuring that she would be behind on her next defence. Nansheell saw the opportunity and she stabbed forward, extending fully to ensure her success. Kinsa, knowing the attack was coming, was able to bend backward and jump out of the way. She flipped back and, as she landed on her hands, she kicked up with her feet, connecting with the hilt of Nansheel's lightsaber and knocking it out of her hand. Kinsa pushed off with her hands, changing direction and pushing herself forward back onto her feet instead of completing the flip. She used the momentum and extended her fist out, hitting Nansheell in the face and dropping her to the ground. Before Nansheell could get up, Kinsa was beside her with her lightsaber at her throat.

"Dun Möch.," she declared simply.

It was the Sith name for disarming or defeating an opponent without killing them, and Kinsa had to admit she got a small amount of satisfaction every time she said it.

Nansheell clenched her fists and Kinsa felt a flash of anger within her before she controlled herself.

Kinsa stood straight and extended a hand to Nansheell, who took it begrudgingly, dusting herself off and recalling her lightsaber from where it had landed.

"Very good, Dareen," Natheera's voice called from the stand. "However, have a little more patience. You don't want to leave yourself purposely open; there's always the chance that you won't be able to recover and block the attack, even if you're expecting it. Fulad, you're next."

The gigantic woman quickly ignited her oversized lightsaber and dashed towards Kinsa with her lightsaber pointed forward. Kinsa jumped and tucked her legs, letting the huge lightsaber pass underneath her. She stuck her foot out, connecting with Fulad's furry chin, knocking the woman's head back and continuing past her. She landed in a crouch behind the cat-like woman and immediately spun around, coming to face her opponent just in time to block a slash aimed at her chest. Instead of engaging her faster opponent, Fulad jumped back and shot a thick stream of blue lightning at her. Kinsa held up her lightsaber, controlling the lightning and absorbing it with ease. While she still wasn't very comfortable with using lightning - it was still extremely traumatic whenever she attempted to - she was now able to defend against it without any trouble.

Kinsa felt the tingling energy spread through her as she absorbed the deadly lightning. She ran to Fulad, but was stopped by her great swinging lightsaber. She stood there, defending and attacking, trying in vain to get inside the woman's long range. She blocked a high stab and attempted to duck under her lightsaber to get into attack range, but Fulad quickly lifted her leg and kicked her back, forcing her away from her effective range of attack. Fulad stabbed at her. Kinsa stepped to the side, dodged the lightsaber and stepped forward, grabbing the woman's thick wrist. She used the Force to augment her strength and she yanked the larger woman forward. There was a moment where Kinsa could have stabbed at Fulad's exposed torso with her other hand, but this was just a training exercise; no-one wanted anyone to get hurt. Fulad managed to wrench her hand from Kinsa's grasp, but Kinsa was already inside. Now that she was close, Fulad's oversized lightsaber was a disadvantage. She swung it wildly, trying to keep up with Kinsa's quick, precise strikes.

Fulad was too slow on bringing her lightsaber low to block a slash aimed at her feet; her guard was weak and it was pushed back, touching her legs for a split second and singeing her long fur. She yelped in pain and Kinsa immediately jumped back, worried she had hurt the Selonian woman. After checking her burnt fur, Fulad brought her lightsaber back up, ready to continue the fight.

"Halt," Natheera yelled, stopping Fulad in her tracks. "Dareen is twice the victor. However, Darren you need to press your advantage when you have it; even in a training session you need to make sure your opponent is down, even if it means drawing a little blood."

Fulad gave Kinsa a small bow and extinguished her massive lightsaber.

"Drekk, you're up."

With a calm, emotionless face, Drekk stepped forward. He grabbed both lightsabers from his belt, but only ignited the one in his right hand. Kinsa knew she would have to remind herself to stay focused on his left hand as well.

Kinsa chose not to leap into this fight; instead she moved slowly forward, matching Drekk's speed. They clashed together, starting off with a basic exchange of attack and defence, going back and forth, neither of them pressing the attack. Kinsa fought one-handed, going for light stabs and parries rather than risky, but potentially more damaging slashes. After a few seconds of relatively slow paced combat, Kinsa was moving to block a downward cut from Drekk when suddenly the glowing crimson blade disappeared. There was a snap-hiss and the lightsaber shot forth right above her head inside her guard. Panicking Kinsa swiveled her head to the side, successfully avoiding the blade. As she moved to her right she heard another lightsaber igniting near her hip and she realized she had lost track of his deactivated lightsaber. She brought her lightsaber down to her right side and continued moving to the right, deflecting the yellow bladed lightsaber as she moved to try and avoid his other one. She felt the burning on her shoulder as his lightsaber burnt a hole in her robe and seared her skin. She stifled her scream and continued moving out of the way, pushing Drekk's lightsaber away and retreating. Drekk now stood facing her with both lightsabers drawn, his face still emotionless despite his successful attack. He slowly advanced towards her, twirling his lightsabers in a yellow-red whirlwind.

As he moved forward, Kinsa stayed still and tested her shoulder by rotating it. It stung slightly but she didn't think it would be a serious hindrance. She ran forward, closing the distance between them instantly. She lunged forward, aiming to stab through his whirling blades. Her lightsaber was easily batted down and she had to bend back to avoid a slash from the yellow energy beam aimed at her head. They quickly fell into another pattern, this time with Kinsa on the defensive, working hard to avoid his two lightsabers while keeping her mind open for a surprise attack.

Drekk came in from the side and somehow Kinsa knew without a doubt what was coming. She brought her lightsaber to bear in an upward block and smiled as she saw his red blade extinguish. Before he could re-ignite it, Kinsa quickly kicked out with her left leg, keeping track of his off hand with the corner of her eye. Her foot connected with the now unthreatening lightsaber. Surprisingly, he managed to maintain his grasp on the lightsaber hilt, but his arm was forced out to the side by her kick. As she brought her foot back down, she saw his other lightsaber was coming in low to chop at her waist. Not wanting to block and risk him simply extinguishing his weapon, she jumped up, easily clearing the lightsaber as it passed under her, continuing on its path by momentum. As she came back down, Kinsa used her downward impetus to deliver a blow from above, bringing her lightsaber onto his head with some weight behind it. Drekk quickly ignited his other lightsaber and brought both of his lightsabers up in an X form, catching her single blade in the crux of his weapons.

Pressing down with all her strength, Kinsa tried to overwhelm his defences. She felt a warning flash in her mind a split second before the lightsabers disappeared completely. She pitched forward quickly and fell to the sand as Drekk slid to the side to avoid her. She held her hands out to catch herself and spun quickly to her back so she could look up at Drekk as he came down on her. His sabers were once again ignited and he swung his weapons down at her, coming in simultaneously for some reason. Kinsa brought her lightsaber up dangerously close to her face so that if, Drekk turned off his lightsabers, they would pass by her head before he could turn them back on. Drekk folded his back as he brought his lightsabers down on her. Kinsa held the hilt with both hands as his lightsaber crashed into hers, fighting to keep Drekk at bay. She felt the burning heat of her own blade radiating towards her face as she struggled to push back against Drekk's dual-bladed assault.

Kinsa kicked out with her leg, slamming into Drekk's shin. His legs were pushed back and he dropped forwards, falling down on her. Kinsa quickly rolled to the side to avoid the falling body and his wild lightsabers. With her back turned, she heard Drekk grunt as he slammed into the ground. Kinsa quickly jumped to her feet and scrambled away, trying to give herself some time to recover rather than risk attacking while they were both vulnerable.

Her back and shoulder ached but besides that, she was completely fine. She watched Drekk stand up slowly, the mild, unaffected look still covering his face. He began his slow march towards her, both of his lightsabers now extinguished, the hilts in hand. As she waited for him to get to her, Kinsa realized why she was failing to beat him. She had been so focused on defending against his strange style that she hadn't been thinking; she had only been reacting. She had been too distracted to think about a strategy to the fight and had instead just been sucked into the fight completely. Now that she had a moment's pause, she considered what she could do.

If she continued fighting she was certain he would eventually find an opening, surprise her and end the fight. Her advantages in combat was usually her speed and agility, heightened by her proficiency in form four: Ataru. In this particular fight, however, relying on her speed would lead to her downfall. Drekk continued his placid walk and Kinsa realized her other advantage in this fight. While she wasn't as proficient as some Consulars, she was extremely adept at using the Force.

With all his focus on lightsaber combat and attention to clouding his opponent's mind Drekk had under-developed Force defences. Kinsa gathered Force within her as he strode towards her. She attempted to hide her growing power from Drekk as he sauntered coolly towards her. Before he could attack her, she released energy in a concussive, concentrated blast. Instead of a large wave that would bowl over him, she shot a small, condensed sphere of mass at him. The invisible kinetic energy moved forward at chest height. The potent attack tore through Drekk's Force shield and blasted him in the chest. Drekk was quickly lifted off his feet and pushed backwards. He crashed into the ground; his lightsabers were both knocked from his grasp and flew harmlessly to the side.

Moving quickly, Kinsa bounded forward, reaching Drekk just as he straightened himself up. Before he could recall his lightsabers Kinsa jumped forward and kicked at him, flying through the air with her right leg outstretched. Her booted heel struck him in the chest exactly where her Force attack had hit him. For the first time, his mask of indifference was broken as it transformed into a scream of pain. His cry was silenced as he was knocked back to the floor again, this time hitting his head on the ground and falling into unconsciousness.

Kinsa walked over to where he lay, checking to make sure he was still breathing and wasn't too badly injured. She pressed her hand on his chest and it was still firm; luckily, she hadn't broken anything. She rolled him to his side to look at the back of his head. He was bleeding and his hair was matted and dirty, but his skull was intact. Fulad came lumbering over and picked up his unconscious body.

"I'll take him to the med bay," she said in a deep, purring voice.

Natheera nodded her agreement to Fulad who hefted the body and walked off towards the medical tent.

Jer'ja jumped forward and ignited his whip, staring up expectantly at Natheera.

"Yes," she said with a sigh and a tiny smile, "you're next Jer'ja."

A wide smile was painted on his face as he turned to face Kinsa. To her, Jer'ja was the most confusing of all the squad. He fought with emotion but, instead of rage and pain, he seemed to be fuelled by boundless joy, he seemed to be the opposite of everything she had learned about Sith. He was humble, always ready to learn from others and yet when he fought, he was a dangerous storm of energy.

He flailed his whip around wildly, waiting for her to make the first move. Kinsa was wary of entering in the fray with the dangerous weapon she still couldn't predict. After a couple seconds of watching him, trying to find some pattern, she gave up, simply launching wildly at him. The small human jumped as well, meeting her in midair. Kinsa reactively curled into a ball as Jer'ja swung his whip at her; the humming beam lashed over her head and then snapped back, coming towards her again as Jer'ja yanked his arm backwards. She spun in midair to face the whip and held her lightsaber out in front of her, catching the flexible beam. She had to yank her head back quickly as the end of the whip flailed past her lightsaber, flying centimeters in front of her face.

She fell to the ground with a rough thud, bruising her already tired and pained body; she had been too distracted to focus on landing. She looked up to see Jer'ja already in the air again, jumping backwards and sending his weapon towards her once again. She was able to duck under the bright red whip and then dodge to the side as it was pulled back. Jer'ja quickly flicked his wrist again just as he landed, sending the writhing beam arcing towards her. She pushed out lightly with the Force, disrupting the trajectory of the flexible whip and knocking it back to Jer'ja. He let the it drop to the ground, the energy beam burning the grass between them.

The scourge flailed to life and launched toward her once again as Jer'ja flicked his wrist. Kinsa brought her lightsaber up to block the whip. It came from the side and wrapped around her lightsaber, creating a strange sizzling sound as they touched. Kinsa yanked her arm back with all her strength, trying to use her strength to pull the handle from the younger man's hands. Jer'ja surprised her with his strength, however, holding tightly to the metal hilt. Instead of his weapon shooting at her, he jumped up and was pulled forward towards her. As he neared her, Kinsa swung her leg out, aiming to kick him in the ribs.

Her foot connected with his side, but it didn't seem to affect him. He continued flying towards her, his legs bent back and his knees pointed out. His knees connected with her chest and knocked her to her back. They fell together in a tangle of arms and legs and it took a moment for them to spring to their feet and separate. Jer'ja backed away from her, covering his retreat by flicking his whip in her face, keeping her from chasing him. They stood regarding each other for a moment, about four meters between them. The curling red beam lay on the ground at his side as Jer'ja bounced on the balls of his feet, a smile still covering his face. Kinsa breathed deeply, calling on the Force, leaning on it just to keep her standing. Jer'ja seemed to be have endless energy.

Kinsa took a deep breath, letting the Force wash through her and rejuvenate her tired muscles. She launched forward with long strides. Jer'ja stayed still and brought his whip up and flung it at her face. She saw the whip as it moved towards her; judging the distance, she continued running, blowing by the energy beam, leaving it behind her, trying to close the gap and get in close to Jer'ja. She heard the whip snap behind her as she closed in on him; she instinctively ducked as she ran, assuming from experience his strike would be aimed for her head. She was within two meters of Jer'ja when she felt a burning heat against her heel. The whip slashed at her Achilles tendon as it flew past her, cutting through her tough, leather boots and burning her skin for a moment before rushing past her and flying back to Jer'ja. She took a step forward, but found she couldn't put weight on her foot; her leg collapsed and she pitched forward, falling onto her face. She brought her arms up to protect her face; she was about to slam into the dirt when she felt herself stop suddenly. She looked up to see Jer'ja, a concerned, focused look on his face with his hands stretched out towards her, channeling the Force to keep her from falling forward. Kinsa extended her hands out so they touched the ground and Jer'ja released her. She stood up, putting her weight on her left foot.

Jer'ja's smile returned to his face as he saw she was okay.

"I still win," he declared, whirling to look at Natheera for confirmation.

Natheera laughed aloud. "Yes, Jer'ja, you win."

Kinsa felt a pang of pain in her heart as she looked at Jer'ja's young, innocent face. She didn't believe he was capable of hurting anyone. He had been training all his short life to become the best warrior he could be, and he was one of the best she had ever seen, but he had never seen real combat. All his experience was in training duels like this one and it hurt Kinsa to think about what would happen when the battle was joined. Either he would be unable to truly fight and be killed quickly, or he would fight, killing, she was sure many Jedi, corrupting him and turning him into something evil before he was finally put down. She couldn't help but imagine how it all could have been different if he had been born in another part of the Galaxy; if the Jedi had found him before it was too late, everything would have been so much better for him.

"Dareen," Natheera called down from the stands. "come and talk with me; the rest of you continue your training." She gestured to the nineteen other members of their squad to pair off together.

 **T** hey sat high in the bleachers, looking down as the rest of Kinsa's squad trained together, pairing off and going through attack and defence sequences until they became second nature. After training enough on a specific sequence, it became muscle memory and you could attack and defend without even hardly thinking about it, which left your mind free to plan ahead and try to predict your opponent's next moves or use Force powers.

Natheera broke the thoughtful silence, pulling Kinsa's attention away from the men and women fighting below.

"You are an amazing lightsaber duelist. You came to us with great skill and knowledge and you've advanced quicker than anyone I've ever seen."

"Thank you," Kinsa replied bowing her head. She waited for the "But" that was surely coming.

"However," Natheera continued.

Close enough, Kinsa thought to herself.

"You still seem to be holding back. It seems as if your mind is focused partially on something else while you're fighting. If you just gave it your all, if you just let yourself go you could be amazing."

There was no doubt in Kinsa's mind what Natheera was referring to: it was her Force signature. Through all this time, in everything she'd been doing, she had been focusing on keeping the Light side within her bottled up. It had become slowly easier and easier, she assumed just because she was getting used to doing it, and it could be placed further back in her mind but, still she had to pay some attention to it.

"And your emotions," Darren continued. "You're delving into them and using them, but not correctly. In these last fights, you didn't draw anything up to fuel you, not even once. With you, it's like you either keep them shut away or you release them completely, like a dam bursting; then they rush over you and take control. Remember what I said earlier: you need to control your emotions, and, contrary to what you seem to believe, controlling your emotions doesn't mean keeping them shut away; that's not true control. You need to learn to turn the valve just a little, to open a steady stream of emotions and passions that can empower you and make you better; that is true control."

Once again, the truth of the Jedi was revealed to her. She had been told that followers of the Dark side "cheated" their way to power, relying on dark emotions for their strength, but now she saw that the Jedi were just afraid. They were afraid of their emotions and uncertain of their ability to control them, so they tried to lock them away. She almost laughed aloud, they were afraid; and was fear itself not an emotion? An emotion the Jedi themselves claimed led to the Dark side. In the very core of their teachings, their hypocrisy was revealed yet again.

As more truth was revealed, she realized that the Jedi were not truly practitioners of the Light side. She wasn't, of course, saying the Sith were the Light side, but she was beginning to see the Jedi weren't either. The Dark side used emotions like fear, anger, jealousy, arrogance, and hate to fuel their Force. The Light side should use emotions like love, kindness, hope, pride, courage, and joy to fuel their control over the Force; instead the Jedi used nothing. They took all emotions, good and bad, and shut them away for fear that they may be led to the Dark side, but, in doing that, they stayed closer to the Dark side than if they embraced good emotions. They were too weak and too afraid to try and sort through their emotions to find those that could be used for good. Kinsa had always wondered why it seemed like Sith were naturally more powerful than Jedi and now she knew. It was because it wasn't a fight against Light side and Dark side, it was a fight between the Dark side and...she didn't even know what. Some kind of neutral, bland non-colour that didn't even have a side.

Her eyes drifted to Jer'ja as he fought, easily keeping Ricke, a larger human with a double-bladed lightsaber, at bay. This, she thought, was theLlight side. Jer'ja fought with emotion but no dark evil emotions, rather with pure joy and simply for the love of fighting.

"Dareen?" Natheera questioned, interrupting Kinsa's revelatory thoughts.

"Hmm?" Kinsa asked; she thought she must have missed something.

"I asked what it was that was holding you back. What is stopping you from using your emotions?"

"Fear," Kinsa replied honestly. "I've kept my emotions smothered to protect myself from them. It's easier for me to keep them at a distance than to try and deal with them, than to try and control them."

Natheera laughed. "And is fear not an emotion?" she asked, echoing Kinsa's thoughts. "And a weak one at that. One that has no place in a fighter's heart. You must take your fear and transform it, turn it into rage that will fuel you."

Kinsa dismissed this immediately; she knew now she didn't need rage to defeat her enemies. She would use her own emotions, the emotions that would lead her to the Light side.

"I understand," she said, nodding; she still needed to keep some secrets.

There was a short pause when Natheera clearly expected her to excuse herself and go back to training, but Kinsa saw this moment as an opportunity to get some information.

"So, I know this cult is apparently pretty old, but the idea to fight the Jedi is relatively recent; what was happening here before all that?" she asked.

"It all started with our new leader, the one you met on the first day. Our old leader, Grif, didn't actually seem to have any goal in mind, but was just happy being able to call himself leader. He issued an open challenge that anyone who could defeat him in a duel would become the leader. Many tried and they all failed; no-one even came close until the Lord Marshal."

"Was he that good?" Kinsa interrupted. Rogin had been a good fighter, but she couldn't imagine he'd improved enough to defeat a highly-trained Force user.

Natheera shrugged. "Grif was good but not as good as he thought. Almost half of the people that are training below us probably could have defeated him, most just honestly didn't see the point. Being the leader during that time didn't mean much. I'm not so sure about the new one though; I saw him fighting and Grif never even had a chance, I know I wouldn't want to chance fighting him. He never actually dissolved Grif's policy, but it doesn't matter; I think he knows no-one would challenge him to a duel after what he did to Grif. Besides, now we actually have a purpose and killing him would just serve to tear an important cog out of that plan, everyone here seems happy enough with his leadership."

Kinsa nodded along as Natheera spoke. Again, she was surprised at the Dark side cult, this time surprised how well they were working together. She'd imagined it would be full of infighting and back-stabbing, assassins sneaking into Rogin's tent to slit his throat while he slept most every night. In reality, it seemed like this cult had more cooperation and agreement than the Jedi.


	17. Chapter 17

**Questions/critiques/reviews always welcome.**

 **17**

 **T** here was only a month before their deadline and Namon still hadn't heard a word from the Jedi. It was time for him to start planning what his army would do if the Jedi didn't respond. He had no real reason and certainly no desire to attack a defenceless planet; it had only been a threat, an attempt to encourage the Jedi council. He would, of course, do it if he was forced to - he couldn't make the threat then not follow up on it - but he would prefer not to.

If he attacked a planet, the Republic would be certain to get involved. If Republic army started the war, the Jedi could simply sit back as his Bogan was cut down by the overwhelming number of regular soldiers that served in the army of the Republic. The younger Jedi would still be restless and even angrier with the older Masters for not getting involved in the war; the Jedi would still split and the entire mission would have been for nothing.

Time was running out and he needed to think of another way to get the Jedi to do something. He hadn't thought it would be this hard to get them riled up, especially when it meant saving an entire planet of sentient beings. Their hesitation truly made him think less of the Jedi, an order he'd previously seen as a worthy and respected enemy.

Alone, slouching on his wooden throne, he tried desperately to think of something to force the Jedi to act. He considered sending the message to the senate of the Republic, hoping they would pressure the Jedi into action. This idea was quickly dismissed; if he got the Senate of the Republic into it than they would end up fighting the army of the Republic and the result would be the same as if he attacked a planet.

He'd hoped he could complete this mission by himself, but now he had no choice; he had to contact Darth Cognus and get her advice. He pulled out his holo communicator, certain he was alone, and called her.

"Ah, my apprentice," she said, her signature sly smile on her see-through blue face. "I was wondering if maybe you'd died or abandoned me; it feels like it's been ages."

"I'm sorry, Master," Namon apologized quickly. "I just assumed you were extremely busy and I didn't want to bother you."

Darth Cognus shook her head and chuckled.

"Anyways, my apprentice, why have you broken the silence?"

"The Jedi. They haven't responded to our message; time is running out and we haven't heard a peep."

He considered telling his master about Kinsa; he knew she would want to know, but something told him to keep it to himself.

"I don't know how to make them respond," he finished.

Darth Cognus paused for a moment before speaking.

"Send it to the Jedi," she said simply.

Namon was confused. "I did send it to the Jedi."

"No," she corrected him. "You sent it to the Jedi council. They've already been through a war with the Sith; they aren't the ones threatening to leave and they aren't the people you're targeting with this mission. Send the same message to the Jedi temple; it will get to the younger, more active members of the order and they will insist on going to war with or without the Council."

Namon mentally kicked himself for not thinking of the obvious solution already.

"Thank you, Master," he told her, bowing his head and shutting down his communicator.

 **C** ognus watched as her apprentice's face blinked out of existence. She was certain the Jedi would fight even without this extra pressure, but she understood Namon's worry. This was his first mission that would have a large, long-lasting effect and she'd expected him to freak out a little. If sending the second video would help calm him down, she saw no harm in it.

 **E** verything in Kinsa's life had become so much more complicated. She couldn't look back at a specific moment and point to when it had happened; she just knew her entire life felt like a giant, confusing mess. When she had simply been a Jedi, it had been so much cleaner; there had been right and wrong, there had been truth and lies, but now it was all muddled. A part of her wished she could just accept the Jedi tenets, that she could somehow make herself naïve enough to believe in their teachings without doubt; it would make it so much easier. The more she learned from Natheera, the more her straining belief in the Jedi was scraped away. As her belief in the Jedi was being washed away, Kinsa didn't know what to put her belief in. She knew that all that Natheera preached wasn't right, but now she honestly didn't know what was true. She just wanted to find something solid to stand on, just a rock of truth she could cling to while the turbulent seas of this confusing Galaxy swirled around her.

 **E** verything was perfect; it was all ready; Set had contacted the Lurians and had them move his body within the Bacta tank into a hidden room in his estate on Corellia. He would draw in his pursuer and confront them there. If things went sour, he would simply transfer his essence into the blank clone of himself as he had done many times before.

 **T** his was one of the only moments she'd had alone since getting here; Kinsa knew she had to make this quick. Even when she was in her room the were paper-thin walls between her and the rest of her troop would have given her away. During the day, she felt as if there was always someone watching her, always looking over her shoulder, doubting her story. She brought up her communicator and called the council; she didn't have a way to see all of them but she would be able to hear all of them.

"Kinsa, Kinsa!" Master Sifu yelled.

"Shh," she told him. She felt strange shushing a Jedi Master but she couldn't be discovered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Kinsa." Master Liftling interrupted, whispering harshly. "What do you have to report?"

The memory of crushing darkness and her terrifying storm of electricity flashed into her mind. She considered telling them about the situation, about her growing confusion, but decided against it; that was a private matter. She would probably talk about it with Master Sifu later but for now she saw no reason to worry the Council with things that didn't affect her mission.

"They are significantly more organized and cohesive than expected. Their leader is Rogin as I suspected, and he has brought them all willingly under his leadership; there is no chance to get them to turn on him or each other as we had hoped. Despite this, they are not extremely well-trained, at least not compared to the Jedi, and some of them have only the faintest trace of the Force within them. If we prepared, drew up battle plans and chose a strategic planet, they wouldn't stand a chance. I suggest you inform the rest of the Jedi of the message, draw up a battle plan and send a response back to Rogin."

"Well, that's no longer a problem," a Master whose voice she didn't recognize said off handedly.

"Yes," Master Liftling said, over-pronouncing the word angrily. "The Bogan sent the message to the rest of the Jedi, so now they all know. The planning has already begun and it will continue on, with or without us. The war is going to take place on Qwill, the third moon of Phent."

Kinsa remembered the name of the moon from Jedi history. Phent and its three moons were devoid of almost all vegetation, covered with rocky mountains and dry plains. The only habited area was Qwill, the smallest moon that had been colonized by a group of hardy humans from a nearby system. They lived and thrived there against all odds until, one year, a terrible plague had struck, infecting almost ninety percent of the settlers. They had called out to the Jedi, begging for their help. The Jedi had sent a handful of Masters who meditated for a week straight in order to complete a Jedi healing ritual. In the end, almost all of the human settlers had survived, but they had been forced to leave the planet; it turned out the soil was extremely poisonous and they had caught the disease from the food they had grown and eaten there.

Qwill was a very smart choice for the Jedi. It was surrounded all around by uninhabited planets, so there would be no chance of collateral damage. No collateral damage meant no backlash from the Republic, something the Jedi could certainly do without during this turbulent time. This also meant that, rather than spending resources and energy protecting civilians like they'd had to do on Russan, the Jedi could focus completely on fighting the Bogan. As a bonus, the planet was drenched in the Light side as a result of the Jedi Master's healing ritual.

"It is a stony, barren, empty planet; our war will have none of the negative effects Russan had."

Kinsa smiled as Master Liftling continued describing the planet; she thought of telling her she already knew of it, but figured it would be easier to just let her talk.

"We will be leaving behind the initiates and the youngest of the Padawans along with three instructors to watch over them. All other Padawans, Knights and Masters are being shipped to Qwill as we speak. We were just waiting for your call to send our response to the Bogan." Master Sifu said once Master Liftling finished describing the planet.

Kinsa was pleasantly surprised; she'd never imagined the Jedi would act so quickly or decisively."

"Kinsa. You're certain we can defeat them?" Master Sifu asked solemnly.

"Yes, Master," She replied without hesitation. "We have greater numbers, better training, and we will be more entrenched and prepared since the Jedi are heading there now."

"Thank you for your service," Master Liftling told her. "You've done much for the Jedi. When the Bogan lands, sneak away and join us; we'll need you when the fighting starts."

It was strange to hear something encouraging coming from Master Liftling. She nodded before remembering they couldn't see her.

"Yes, Masters, I will do my best. May the Force be with you."

"And you." A chorus of voices came from her communicator.

Kinsa clicked it off and she was once again by herself in her world of darkness. She sat alone and thought for a moment. She was happy the Jedi were doing something and that the mission was ending, but a part of her was disappointed. Even though it perhaps wasn't good for her, she was learning so much more about the Force here. The council forbade the use of such Dark-side abilities, but she knew that many Jedi from the last war used such weapons to defeat the Sith. If she could just learn a bit more, she could keep herself distanced from the Darkness while using these methods to make her stronger. She knew she was skirting a dangerous line but, if she could control it, she would be able to do so much more good for the Galaxy.

 **F** inally, Cognus had found what she believed to be the resting place of Set Harth. It was a ridiculously gigantic house with shining white, curved walls that reminded her of Bith architecture. It was in a solitary little corner of Corellia, a rich and lush core planet; there wasn't another house in sight. She snuck slowly towards the mansion, keeping her senses open for guards or some sort of alarm system. She assumed a man like Set would have heavy security.

A few minutes later, she found herself up against the wall of the house, poised to jump into an open window. She was continually surprised at the lack of security; she grew wary of some sort of trap. She bent low and gathered a small amount of Force, jumping up and Force pushing off the ground, she easily sailed up to the window and reached out, pulling herself through. She landed on the shiny black stone floor without a sound and looked up to see Set Harth standing before her. He was clothed in shining silver armor with a bright red emblem on his chest that she didn't recognize. He had a large red cape that touched the floor and he was bowing before her.

Darth Cognus had her lightsabers in hand; one pressed onto Set's outstretched neck almost instantly.

"Ah, M'lady. I've long looked forward to the day we got to meet again: I'm elated to say you have not disappointed."

Cognus gritted her teeth with frustration. It would be so easy to cut him down now, to put an end to this fool. But his attitude and lack of fear interested her; curiosity stayed her hand.

"You, on the other hand, have been extremely disappointing, Set Harth," she told him, playing along and putting her lightsabers back in her cloak. "I expected you to advance ever so slightly in these past years but, if anything, you seem to have devolved since out last encounter."

Set raised his head and flashed her a smile.

"You have me at a disadvantage, my mysterious stalker. You know my name but I never had the chance to learn yours."

As he spoke Cognus saw something strange in his face. She'd expected him to age in the last fifteen years, but he looked somehow younger than she remembered. It surprised her for a moment, but she recovered quickly; there were many ways a Force user could make themselves look younger or mask the effects of the age and the deteriorating work of the Dark side. Set Harth was just the sort of person who would waste time and energy learning and applying such foolish tricks.

"Darth Cognus," she replied dryly.

She saw a gleam of humour in Set's eyes, signifying he had both seen and enjoyed her surprise at his youthful appearance.

"Where is it? Darth Scourge's Holocron?" she demanded of him, growing tired of his attitude.

"Well, I tell you that and off comes my head. And I," he rubbed his smooth, youthful face. "have quite an attachment to my head."

"If you don't tell me, I'll simply cut your head off and search this ridiculous house up and down until I find it."

Cognus' anger grew as Set shook his head and chuckled mockingly, as if she had just said something unbelievably stupid. Everything about this man infuriated her.

"I don't have it here, of course. I wouldn't simply wait here and let you find me AND keep my most important artifacts nearby. It's on one of the many planets you chased me across, and, if you kill me now, you'll have no way to get it. I could, of course, tell you where the Holocron is in exchange for you leaving me alone. And I know, I know, what's to stop you from torturing the information from me. Well…"

Cognus grew weary of this man's foolish talk. He clearly had no way out and was now just rambling nonsensically, trying to buy time. She decided suddenly that no Holocron was worth this. Her hand flashed into her robe and she brought out her lightsaber, igniting it and slashing at him. The lightsaber easily passed through his fancy breastplate and cut a deep furrow into Set's chest before he could defend himself.

She expected him to cry out in surprise and pain before he died but, instead, he remained silent. He looked down at the blackened line across his chest with a look of simple curiosity. He closed his eyes and dropped to his knees, his face disappointingly still showing no pain. He seemed to concentrate for a moment before he wobbled and dropped onto his back.

As she watched the life drain from the man sprawled on the black stone floor, she felt no regrets, only disappointment at the peaceful death. She may not have got what she came for, but she'd gotten what she needed; she'd proved to herself that she was still her own master. And she'd done what she wanted ever since she was forced to let Set escape from Doan. She turned away from the dead man and jumped back out the window. Set had told her he kept nothing of value in the house and she believed him; while he may have been a prancing fool, he hadn't been an idiot, all she would find here is useless talismans used by the weak and pathetic.

By the time Set awoke in his new body, sunlight was beaming through the green liquid in the Bacta tank. He'd never attempted essence transfer over such a large distance before. His plan had been to move the conversation closer to this room, but the Sith woman had lost patience with him much sooner than he'd been expecting. It was a little insulting.

It had been a painful death and the act of transferring his essence was always unpleasant, but it was worth it. Now Darth Cognus would have no reason to try and track him down and he could go on carving out his little corner of the Galaxy. Besides, he thought he'd seen some wrinkles the last time he'd looked in the mirror.

 **D** arth Millennial felt at home in this cool, dark pit; if he didn't have such a monumental responsibility to the Galaxy and to the force herself, he could see himself spending the rest of his days in a cavern like this. He was kilometers beneath the surface, surrounded by silence broken only by the steady dripping of stalactites. The light from his glow stick only illuminated the area less than a meter around him; the light seemed to be swallowed up by the thick, oppressive darkness around him. As he walked, he daydreamed about it: staying alone in this cavern forever - no responsibilities, no hopes riding on his back, no evil followers bent on destroying him, just the infinite and beautiful expanses within his mind. He could spend years upon years, delving into himself with nothing and no-one to stop him. But it could never be; he was chosen, he had a responsibility, and sometimes he had to abandon his desires for the greater good. And so he continued on, searching for the tool that would grant him control over his rebellious cult once again, the mask of Darth Sanders. Darth Millennial had read about this ancient Sith who had taken down a blasphemous cult within one of the old Sith Empires, killing his Master who had been the leader of this insurgency.

A few more minutes of exploring the dark catacombs beneath Balmoria and he came upon the tomb. It was a large box, just over a meter high and two meters long, made entirely of a black stone material. It was beautiful. If the Force ever allowed him to die, Darth Millennial wouldn't mind being buried in a tomb such as this. He used the Force to lift the heavy slab off the tomb and flung it to the side, cracking it against the wall to the left. He looked down into the tomb to see a stark white skeleton clothed in tattered blue robes. On the skeleton's face was a pristine, shining white mask. The white metal was somewhat reflective and there were small jagged out-dents, making it shine all over with the green light from his glow rod. There were thin, vertical slits along the mouth but no holes in the eyes.

There was no shame or hesitation in his heart as Darth Millennial reached down to rip the mask from the man's dry skull. To him, this was how it should be; he was a Sith and it was his right to have all the resources, information and greatness of those who had come before him. He was certain Darth Sanders would be pleased with this. That a true Sith was using this tool he had left behind to crush a group of rebellious followers so he could rise to his rightful place. He grabbed the mask: his fingers tingled as the Force pulsed from the cool metal into his hands. The mask seemed almost to resist his pull for a moment, clinging to its previous owner before it separated from the man's smiling face. He brought it up and placed it on his own face; it seemed to change form slightly to fit perfectly on his features. He felt the Force coursing through him like a charge that boiled his blood, making him shake with the sudden surge of the energy as it flooded into him. The shocking infusion of strength made him feel as if he could do anything, that he could control everything. Without a doubt, he now had enough power to bring his wandering herd back into his grasp.


	18. Chapter 18

**Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome**

 **18**

 **N** amon and his generals sat around a table watching the response from the Jedi. An old human man spoke to them slowly and firmly; the calm, controlled way he talked seemed even more threatening than if he had been yelling and screaming at them.

"You have forced the Jedi into a corner because you think we are weak. You see us as less dangerous because of our peaceful nature. You will soon learn how wrong you are. We agree to meet you in two weeks on Qwill, the moon of Phent. No civilians or non Force sensitives will be involved. I urge you to reconsider your challenge; the Jedi have never been destroyed and we will not fall to you."

There was a moment of silence for what felt like a minute after the message shut off, freezing on the man's cold, hard face. Namon was extremely relieved that they had finally received a response. He looked around at the faces of his generals; they all seemed so worried. He understood their sudden fear; it had all been fine when they were training and planning, but now that they had received the response, it seemed all too real. Now they truly had to think about what would happen when they fought the Jedi; they had to realize that even if they won, many of them would still die.

"I know the thoughts bouncing in your head right now: you are counting the cost and risks of the coming battle. But we have a chance to do something no-one has ever done, to wipe out the Jedi. They're offering themselves up to us. We have the chance, not to damage them or to cut down their numbers, but to completely exterminate them. We are followers of the Dark side. This is not the time for caution or hesitation; we need to work. The Dark side is about struggling through to gain influence among our peers and control over those beneath us. Even if many of us perish to attain this victory, once the Jedi are gone no-one will be able to stop us."

The faces around him changed to reflect hesitant hopefulness. He knew his mission and he didn't question his allegiance but he couldn't help but feel bad for the men and women sitting around this table. He'd trained with them, taught them and learned from them; now he was betraying them like it was nothing. They would all be massacred by the Jedi. He knew it served his purposes, but it still felt like too much. These were Dark siders who'd done nothing against him, yet he was killing them all.

He took a deep breath and steeled his mind, pushing out any hesitation or feelings of pity. He still had more planning to do.

 **K** insa sat in the belly of a transport ship, trying in vain to still her shaking body. She and her "Comrades" were sitting in a row, flying at light speed towards Qwill; only two days remaining until the decided meeting between the Jedi and the Bogan.

"Meeting."

She wasn't fooling anyone, certainly not herself. It would be a bloody war and, even if the Jedi won she would lose people she cared for on both sides. When she'd first taken this mission, she was excited to take down this cult and destroy Rogin; now she didn't know. She'd formed a relationship with these people and the thought of them dying upset her.

So, here she was, surrounded by her squad, by her friends, shaking from nervousness and excitement. She wasn't even sure how she would escape once they landed on Qwill. After her display of lightning, she was constantly catching people staring at her and hearing their whispers about her. She was no random, faceless soldier who could sneak away without being noticed; she was a part of a small elite group who would be the first ones meeting the Jedi. She wasn't strong enough to defeat the entire squad, and they would certainly try to stop her if she tried to run away. She wasn't even sure if any of the Jedi would even recognize her with her new robes, mask and her strange appearance.

She wasn't even sure she should leave as soon as she landed. She wanted to find a way to make sure Rogin died. She had a strange, sinking feeling that, even if everyone else on the planet died, Jedi and Bogan alike, Rogin would get away.

 **A** lump of bile seemed to be pressing on Namon's throat; it felt like he was constantly a second away from throwing up. He had never been surrounded by so much of the Light side. It seemed to him like the air here was thicker than on every other planet. He could still breathe it, but he had a harder time sucking it in. He looked around to see how his army was faring; if everyone was this affected, they may not even kill ten Jedi. Surprisingly, no one seemed to be struggling, certainly not as much as he was. Some of them seemed to be in minor discomfort, but no one seemed to be having as much trouble as him.

It amazed him to know that, within a few days, the entire planet would be completely different. It was already barren so there would be no change in vegetation, but the clash of the Jedi and the Bogan would wreck the entire spirit of this world. It would roll through like a ruinous wave, changing the very structure of the planet.

He turned from watching his followers file out of the ship to the large expanse ahead of him. For kilometers in front of him it was only the endless savanna, nothing but flat plains full of twisted shrubs and dry, sharp grass. Even grass itself struggled to survive on this terrible moon. In the sky above him loomed Phent, the planet this tiny moon orbited; it was so close it made him feel like the two celestial bodies were always seconds away from a collision. No matter where he looked the grey planet hung in the sky, casting a strange light on the moon. With a bit of imagination, Namon could see the gigantic mountains jutting out from the not-so-distant planet's surface. For some unknown reason, Phent and all three moons orbiting it were made of the same hard, brittle material where almost nothing could grow. Apparently, beneath the stone, there was nothing but poisonous soil.

The flat, dead plains gave way suddenly to a massive mountain range. Mountains as far as he could see to the right and left rose from the ground like jagged spears. The highest tips reached beyond the clouds and out of his view. On the other side of the massive mountain range was the Jedi camp; they had seen it in the distance when they had flown to their camp. They had been too far for him to tell how many of them there had been. He wanted to know before the battle joined who they had brought, if they had taken all the Knights or only some? Had they left behind the Padawans or were they risking their youngest members to ensure victory. He needed to get a closer look at their operation.

"Zeeth." he called out, turning back around.

The lanky Kaleesh bounded quickly towards him, always in a rush to serve. He got to Namon and stood straight at attention, almost rising to Namon's height.

"Yes, Lord Marshal."

Namon would miss his loyal second-in-command.

"You and your Elites will be the first to meet the Jedi. We saw their encampment when we came in, but I want you to get a closer look. Split them into their squads and have them travel over the mountains. If they meet any Jedi on the way, be sure they draw first blood."

Zeeth nodded and ran back to his strike team to dole out orders. It would be interesting to see how the Jedi woman would deal with her new mission.

 **I** t felt so good and so strange to be on this planet, to be surrounded by the Light side after being smothered by Darkness for so long. She had grown so used to being inundated by the Dark side she had stopped noticing it; it wasn't until now that she truly realized how thick it had been. She felt light as a feather as she ran with her squad towards the high mountains. She imagined, if she could see their faces, those around her would be twisted with discomfort.

Within a few minutes of Force-propelled sprinting, they reached the base of the mountains, Kinsa felt somehow less tired than when they had set out from their camp. Running in this atmosphere made her feel exhilarated; her squad mates, however didn't feel the same. They were all panting like people who couldn't get enough breath into their lungs. Without anyone saying anything, they all stopped for a couple of minutes before continuing on.

The mountains up close seemed even more amazing than when they were far away. They rose up quickly out of view; if Kinsa hadn't seen them before, she would think it was just a sheer wall. Kinsa placed her hand on the side of the mountain and felt the sharp tiny stones protruding out from the otherwise flat rock. She looked over at Natheera, wondering what they would do; she wasn't sure how they would get over these mountains. They couldn't climb straight up, especially not with these stones cutting into their hands. Natheera looked up at the mountain and Kinsa saw her come to the same conclusion as her.

"We have some more running to do. This mountain has to have a break in it somewhere; let's find it." Their leader ignored the groans of protest and ran along the wall of the mountain.

Five minutes of running later, they came to a clear break in the mountain, almost a path. The filed in, forced to go one by one because of the tight, sharp corridors. After only a few steps, they had to get down on their hands and knees to crawl up the steep path. Kinsa was stuck behind Fulad; the broad-shouldered Selonian was constantly stopping and squirming around to fit through particularly tight spots, sending a shower of small stones rolling back to Kinsa. The longer they walked, the more Kinsa began to believe this was a manmade path. It was too straight and too continuous for it to be a natural occurrence. She assumed it was created by the original settlers years ago to pass through the mountains. She wondered how many of these there were; it wouldn't have made much sense for them to waste time and resources making too many paths. The other squads of Elites would have a hard time getting through if she was right.

Fulad's movements set off another slide of dirt and stones, bringing her away from her thoughts as she closed her eyes to keep the dust out. This was terrible; she had dozens upon dozens of tiny cuts in her skin from scraping it against the mountain. Somehow, the stones always seemed to slice through her thick robes and pierce her skin. The sharp grass had made its way into her boots, and making her itch to no end. It was one thing when she was running and adrenaline was pumping, but this slow trudging, waiting for the person ahead of her, was infuriating.

Just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, the path leveled out, letting her stand up straight. Her stiff spine ached as she stood up straight and bent backwards to stretch her back out. Luckily for her the original inhabitants of this moon had carved a path up one of the smaller mountains; even from where she was, she couldn't see the tops of the highest mountains around her. As the rest of them continued to stretch their weary backs, Kinsa looked at the scenery around them. From her spot at the top of the mountains, she could see both the Jedi camp and the Bogan camp. She laughed quietly under her breath. Here she was, stuck between them, as if the universe had to spell it out for her.

Even from way up here, she could see the differences between them. The Bogan wore red robes and the tiny dots that made up the Bogan were a dark red, while the dots milling around in the Jedi camp were an earth brown. The Jedi ships, placed to the back of their camp were a brilliant, gleaming white with the golden emblem of the Jedi order displayed proudly. The Bogan ships were all painted a simple black: no emblems or markings, just black.

After a short rest, they started their trek down the mountain; this time, Kinsa was glad she was near the back. They all had to lean back as they walked down and, every once in a while, someone would slide for a moment and sent the sharp stones bouncing down the mountain towards everyone ahead of them. It took a long time, but they finally got to the other side of the mountains.

Her hands were covered in tiny red streaks and had dozens of microscopic stones imbedded in them. She started to pick them out, but stopped when she felt something she hadn't felt in what seemed like a long time, the Light side. Not the simple Light sidedness of the atmosphere but real Jedi. She was so surprised by the feelings, she stopped suddenly and jerked up, causing Natheera to take notice of her. Natheera stopped fixating on herself and she focused on her surrounding; she too noticed the presence of the Jedi.

Natheera looked to Kinsa and nodded her acknowledgement and thanks. Kinsa kicked herself; she wasn't actually supposed to help them. Natheera noiselessly signaled her troops to stay silent. She started to move away from the mountains and the rest of the squad followed after her. Natheera suddenly held up her hand in a fist, signaling them all to stop. Kinsa stared forward and saw a small grouping of Jedi a kilometer or so away.

"There's not too many of them. This will be our first strike against the Jedi," the masked woman whispered

Natheera followed up her short speech by breaking into a run, covering amazing ground, using the Force to propel her onward. The rest of the squad, including Kinsa, followed after her. She saw the Jedi notice the running group. They ignited their lightsabers and started sprinting towards them.

Kinsa gathered her Force as she ran, holding it inside her as they neared the Jedi. Her heart thumped within her throat and not from the running. This was the moment she'd always known was coming but she had been pushing it aside, ignoring it for months. She realized she honestly didn't know what she was going to do in this moment. In her mind, she had always been telling herself that of course she would fight for the Jedi and destroy the Dark cult but, in her heart, she was harbouring doubt. She had been with the Jedi for practically her entire life, yet she had never gotten to know anyone like she had with these people in only a few months. They may not share her beliefs, but they cared for her, and she cared for them. Some of them may annoy her from time, to time but right now that that didn't matter; they were her squad.

There were only fifteen or so Jedi and twenty of them; even if these were all Masters, Kinsa knew they could beat them. But then what? They couldn't win the whole war, and she didn't want them to. She didn't want the Bogan to win; she just didn't want these people to die.

They were close enough now to see the faces of the Jedi running at them. Their stoic looks were so different from the growls and yells coming from the beings surrounding her. The one at the head of the Jedi was an Asian man with short black hair and a determined look on his face. He held a yellow lightsaber in his hand, signifying him as a Jedi Sentinel. For whatever reason, that clinched it for her; she couldn't even consider betraying the Jedi in that moment. She looked at her squad sprinting beside her, recognizing all of them even with their masks on, she hated herself.

Kinsa let go of the Force she had been gathering within herself just as the Elites were getting ready to launch forward at the Jedi. It released in a wave of energy and spread out like a bomb, pushing the men and women around her. Ready to make an offensive maneuver, they were all unprepared to defend against a Force attack, especially one from within their own ranks. They were lifted up and pushed away from her, not one of them landing back on their feet.

The Jedi immediately slowed, unsure of what to make of this strange development. Kinsa reached under her chin and ripped her mask off; she brushed aside the foolish feeling of sadness as she shed her face.

"I am Jedi Knight Kinsa Una," she yelled quickly at the Jedi as the Bogan around her slowly started to recover from her attack.

The sentinel at the head of the group nodded and continued his run forward. The rest of the Jedi followed quickly after him, meeting the Cultists just as they got to their feet. Kinsa stood still, surrounded by the slaughter of her closest friends, unable to move. Nansheell didn't even get to her feet before a lightsaber drove into her chest, forcing her back to the ground. Nos' mask had been blasted off in her initial Force blast; she stared into his face as a Jedi bent low and chopped off his legs before running on to his next victim, leaving the older Zabrak to bleed out.

Fundal managed to get to her feet before the Jedi descended upon her. She swung in a wide arc, surprising the Jedi with her range, clipping two of them in the stomach as they charged at her. Before she could move forward to finish off the wounded warriors, a pale green lightsaber pierced through her chest; a Jedi had gotten behind her and had run her through from the back. She fell to her knees and Kinsa watched at her head was lopped of her gigantic body.

To her left, Kinsa heard the distinct sound of Jer'ja's light whip igniting. She spun around to see him surrounded by a group of Jedi as he spun constantly, jumping on the balls of his feet and flailing his weapon about wildly. Every time a Jedi thought they saw an opening and rushed forward, they caught a face full of his whip. In a few seconds, he had almost half a dozen bodies laid out in a ring around him. With each Jedi the whip hit, Kinsa felt a part of her die. She almost wished someone would kill him to stop him from this. She was certain if she could see beneath his mask she wouldn't see his beautiful innocent smile. Without warning, a Jedi leaped up, descending on him from above. Jer'ja brought his whip up to get the man and another Jedi on the ground hurled his lightsaber at the small, spindly young man. Kinsa watched as it sailed forward and cut a huge gash in his stomach. Kinsa almost collapsed to the ground as a pitiful wail erupted from behind his mask; the terrible sound was cut short when the Jedi from above crashed down on him.

Even outnumbered, the Jedi had easily won the short battle, losing less than a third of their members while cutting down the disorientated mob with what seemed like fevered excitement.

The battle ended and Kinsa spun slowly to view the full scope of her betrayal. The Jedi were standing over the misshapen bodies of the people she had spent every waking moment with for the past two and a half months. The Jedi had left no survivors.

"How?" she heard a raspy, pained voice at her feet.

She looked down to see Natheera lying at her feet, looking up at her with a terrible, confused look on her face. She had a stab wound in her gut and her mask had been slashed off, leaving a dark burn across her beautiful face.

"How?" she repeated in a soft, fading voice. She grabbed onto Kinsa's ankle, her grasp weak.

A painful lump formed in Kinsa's throat, stopping her from responding. She stared down, locked onto the woman's pleading eyes.

A blue streak interrupted the painful moment, cutting into Natheera's throat. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened in a silent moan of pain. Kinsa felt her hand squeeze tightly around her ankle before going completely limp. Her head lolled to the side and rested softly on Kinsa's feet. Kinsa knew as the woman died that this was her last friend in the Galaxy.

"Sith rat was still breathing," a rough angry voice growled from beside her.

She ripped her eyes from the dead woman at her feet and glared at the man. The smug, proud look on his face dropped as her stare bored into him. It took strength she didn't know she had not to reach out and snap his neck.

"Jedi knight Kinsa Una," came a voice from behind her. "It's an honour to meet you."

She slowly turned around, her anger slipping away into self-loathing and guilt. The sentinel who'd led the charge held his hand outstretched towards her.

"The council told us to keep an eye out for you; you've done amazing work. Names Riche."

Kinsa looked again at the bodies strewn about like a ring encasing her. Amazing work indeed. She stared at the man's outstretched hand and forced herself to shake it.

"Honour's all mine, Sir," she croaked, her voice no doubt betraying her true emotions. "I'd appreciate it if you could take me back to the Council," she told him, speaking quickly, trying to cover up for her strange behavior. "I'd like to give them a more detailed report."

The man nodded. "As soon as we collect their weapons and supplies, I'd be happy to escort you back."

As the rest of the Jedi started picking everything useful off the dead bodies, Kinsa couldn't help but glance back down at Natheera's empty, accusing face.

" **W** e should strike now, before they realize one of their squads is missing," a Jedi Knight called out after Kinsa and Riche had told their story.

The crowd fell silent; they looked to the council members for their response to the man's outburst.

The council members looked to Master Sifu and Master Liftling. They were the most respected of the council members and they were usually on opposite sides of an issue.

"I think I agree," Master Sifu said. "This is the time for action. We have a responsibility to the people of the Republic to protect them from this threat. We were given our gifts and our training for a purpose, for a day just like this one."

The crowd of Jedi around Kinsa was nodding in agreement; people were calling out shouts of agreement. Kinsa, stuck in the middle of it, felt none of the inspiration or pride she knew she should be feeling. She was back in the brown robes of a Jedi, though her skin was still the same colour, but she felt like she was wearing a disguise now, more so than when she'd been among the Bogan. She felt hard inside; she felt cold. She knew she had made the right choice; there was no doubt about it. Despite her personal feelings, the Bogan were evil; her making a connection with a handful of them wouldn't change that. No matter how much she knew that in her head, she still couldn't stop seeing Natheera's scared, confused face and hearing Jer'ja's dying screams.

These Jedi around her, she didn't know even one of them as well as she had known anyone from her squad, and they didn't know her. They just didn't care. You can't have care or love if you stuff all your emotions into a small box. Kinsa was ready to fight, but not for the Jedi; she was ready to fight for the Galaxy and for herself, just to give her something to distract her from the painful images floating around in her head.

"

 **L** ord Marshal, one of our squads didn't return from our scouting mission. Only two besides them were able to make it over the mountains; the other three couldn't find a way to climb up and were forced to turn back."

"And what happened to the two who made it over the range?" Namon asked; he honestly hadn't been expecting Kinsa's squad to return.

"My squad met with another Jedi scout patrol. We were able to defeat the Jedi, but we lost five of our soldiers. The last squad made it to the Jedi camp without being interrupted; the Jedi are preparing to march to our camp for an attack. I suggest we prepare for them to come. We should wait here, let them tire themselves out crossing the mountain before they face us. It seems this is where we will meet them."

This was a problematic development. Namon had been planning to move his army over the mountain and have the battle there. That way, he could observe from the top of the mountain range, then sneak back here and leave on his ship without being noticed.

"No. We don't want them to know where we are. We can assume they also have scouts that have seen us; we'll need the element of surprise in this battle. This is what we'll do." He said, coming up with the plan quickly. " Get all the troops back into the ships. We're going to hang high in the atmosphere to avoid being seen or sensed. Once the entire Jedi army arrives at the base of the mountains we'll jump down and surprise them from above.

Zeeth nodded excitedly as Namon spoke.

"Who will pilot the ships? he asked.

"I will fly my ship and you can choose the other pilots," Namon responded.

Zeeth paused for a moment. "Wouldn't it be better if you led the charge?" he asked hesitantly

"I appreciate your opinion, but I've made the decision," Namon said firmly. "We need to hurry. If we don't get there fast enough then the Jedi will have already started climbing the mountain. It would be nearly impossible to land down on the sharp mountain range, and the higher the Jedi get, the greater the chance of them seeing us as we fly overhead."

Namon could see the hesitation in Zeeth's eyes beneath his bone mask. He kept silent and nodded, turning towards the army to inform the troops of the new plan. Namon was confident that, despite his doubts, the man would carry out his orders. Zeeth was a loyal second-in-command and he'd follow Namon no matter what questions he may have.


	19. Chapter 19

**CardiacCane:** I get how you can see the council as too stubborn, my partial inspiration for them was the allied nations during the start of WW2. Everyone ignored the clear threat because the war they had just been through was so terrible and they didn't want to experience anything like it again.

Yeah, most people don't do nearly as well as Kinsa, that's why they took her to Namon to suggest that she become a general.

I had sort of a hard time with Darth Millennial because I needed him in the story but didn't want him to just appear out of no where but since so far he doesn't effect the plot its hard to make him matter.

 **Questions/critiques/reviews always welcome**

 **19**

 **T** his would be her second time climbing up this stupid mountain. She looked back to the hundreds of Jedi trudging along at an impossibly slow pace behind her. How could they make it over the mountain; they still only knew this one way through and they would take hours upon hours getting walking through. If they knew they were coming, the Bogan could just wait at the other side of the mountain and cut them down one by one as they came.

As much as she may be annoyed with the Jedi, she knew she had to say something. Kinsa scanned the crowd for Master Sifu; she had to tell them this plan wouldn't work. She didn't know what they would do but this would take too long and get everyone killed. She gave up looking and brought her communicator out and hailed him.

"We shouldn't be the ones to travel over the mountain," she said, not waiting for a greeting. "If we climb over, we'll be tired and hurt before the fighting even begins."

There were a few minutes of silence and Kinsa thought that maybe he hadn't heard her.

"Okay, what do you suggest we do?" came his reply.

"I think we need to all wait at the base of the mountain; this is our best position to meet them. They may have higher ground but they will have to bottleneck to get through the mountains. We should also send smaller groups out across the mountains in case they find another way over the mountain."

Another long moment of silence before he responded.

"We're going to keep everyone together. We can't risk any scout groups being overwhelmed and lost; we need everyone."

Kinsa understood this reasoning: the Jedi needed their numbers to overcome the Bogan and if they split up, they could be defeated. But if the Bogan found another way across the mountain they would be able to take the Jedi completely by surprise. She considered saying something, but figured it was pointless; she had said her peace and it wasn't her responsibility to singlehandedly save the Jedi. Besides, she could be completely wrong.

"Okay."

 **N** amon hovered high above the Jedi, watching them through binoculars as they ran around like ants. He thought he had his ships high so that they couldn't be heard, seen or sensed by the Jedi. Once the entirety of the long line of slow-moving Jedi arrived at the base of the mountain, Namon would give the order to lower the ships and drop the troops.

His followers would use the Force to protect themselves from the fall and surprise the Jedi. He wasn't certain all of them would be able to survive the fall, but that didn't matter; they were all going to die in the coming battle anyway. The pilots were supposed to fly to the mountains, then join the battle. Namon, however, would stay on the mountain and watch the battle unfold before going back to Aargonar to report to Darth Cognus. His heart was beating quickly within his chest; this had taken so long and there had been many complications, but soon it would finally be done. It felt amazing to see all the small moving parts finally falling into place.

 **F** inally, all the Jedi Masters, Knights and Padawans were gathered around the base of the mountain. Kinsa couldn't help but thinking how much better it would have been to keep them at least somewhat separated. If the Bogan betrayed their agreement, they could easily bomb the Jedi out of existence. With all the Jedi bundled up like this, their backs to the mountain wall, they were sitting ducks.

As she was trying to stop worrying about what she couldn't change, she heard the mechanical whirring of ships above her. She looked up, expecting to see bombs dropping, but saw something even worse.

Dropping from the sky were hundreds upon hundreds of beings with their sabers drawn, descending quickly. A worried yell moved throughout the ranks of the Jedi like a wave as they all looked up and alerted those standing next to them. The noise of a thousand lightsabers being ignited simultaneously rose from the Jedi. She stared up as a pair of black boots rushed down towards her, the person's robes lifted up and flapping in the wind. Kinsa surrounded herself in the Force like a shield, preparing for the attack.

She stepped to the side at the last possible second as the boots smashed into the ground where she had been standing. As the Bogan landed, the world seemed to explode around her; clods of dirt flew up and waves of Force came at her from all directions. Stones cut into her skin, adding to the already numerous slivers of dry blood. She barely managed to keep her legs under her, as the very ground seemed to shake beneath her feet. She couldn't see more than a foot in front of her; dust from the dry ground had risen up and clouded her vision.

A streak of red broke through the dust suddenly. She ducked under the lightsaber and stabbed forward, feeling her blade hit and hearing a pained grunt. Before she was attacked again, she gathered a small amount of Force and released it, blowing the cloud dust away from her and giving her some vision of the battlefield. She was amazed to see the Jedi falling to the Bogan all around her; their surprise had been complete.

She jumped to her left, lightsaber extended and blocked a downward slash aimed for a stunned Jedi. She kicked the hooded man's leg and stabbed at his chest as he crumpled down. Kinsa held her hand out to help the man up and felt something coming from behind her. She spun and simultaneously brought her lightsaber up, blocking a slash from an alien woman. She stabbed at the woman who spun, avoiding the strike and counter-attacked, smashing Kinsa in the face with her fist. Kinsa stumbled back for a second before jumping forward, feigning another stab at the cultist's chest.

The woman spun to the left, avoiding the strike in the same way, just as Kinsa had expected. Kinsa brought her right leg up, slamming her knee into the woman's stomach as she spun, forcing the breath from her lungs and folding her in half. Kinsa brought her lightsaber up, slicing through the woman's upper chest. Kinsa angrily turned to look for another enemy to defeat.

 **A** t first, Namon had been completely blinded by the cloud of dust that billowed up around the fighters. After only a few seconds, the disturbed earth settled and Namon was able to watch the battle unfold, surprised and slightly worried at the success of his plan. The Jedi were taken completely off guard and dozens of them were being quickly cut down by his followers. Everywhere he looked, they were hardly even putting up any kind of a fight; it was starting to seem that the war would be over before the majority of the Jedi actually got to their feet.

Namon breathed a sigh of relief as, after a few minutes, the tide of the battle turned to the Jedi's favour. The Jedi recovered from their surprise, their superior skill and training was bringing them to victory. The Jedi were banding together while the Bogan were spread out and fought alone. The Bogan were extremely over-confident from their early success, and they were fighting without looking around, failing to see just how many of them were quickly falling to the Jedi as they bounced back with a vengeance.

 **A** blade screamed at Kinsa's face and she heard a stream of lightning being shot at her back. She spun and ducked, avoiding the lightsaber and catching the lightning in her hands, containing the dangerous electricity in a sphere of Force energy, keeping herself disconnected from it. As she controlled the electricity in her hands, she felt the Dark power slipping from her grasp, felt the lightning feeding and awakening the Darkness within her. She quickly turned back to the cultist who'd stabbed at her and released it before it could escape from the cage she was holding it in. The blast knocking him off his feet and scorching a large black hole in his chest.

She jumped up from her crouch, flipping backwards over the Bogan who'd launched the lightning at her. She yelled with anger while in the air above the woman, her Force launching forward, travelling with the scream. The power behind the roar forced the woman into the ground, grinding her flesh and bones into a pulp. While still in the air she took a moment to observe the scene around her, her pumping adrenaline letting her take in everything around her in the split second before she landed. She was happy to see that the Jedi had recovered and were starting to sweep across the battleground, cutting a line across the scattered Bogan forces. From what she could see, they were utilizing a group fighting strategy. Two Jedi would fight back-to-back, protecting each other, moving constantly through the field. Then, when two groups of Jedi crossed each other's paths, they would expand, fighting in a square, always with their backs to each other, always moving. Eventually, there were giant circles of Jedi facing their enemies, while being able to trust that their backs were protected. When a Jedi got injured, the circle stopped moving. They stayed still and continued fighting while another Jedi from the line fell back into the circle to tend to the wounded. If they couldn't be helped, the group of Jedi continued moving on, leaving the dead solider behind. For whatever reason, it seemed the Bogan had no clue that any of this was going on. They were simply fighting wildly on their own with no communications passing between their ranks, similar, she realized, to how she was fighting. She saw and processed this all in a flash while she hovered above the Bogan woman she had demolished.

She landed softly on her feet and immediately ducked to the left to avoid another lightsaber. She turned and slashed at the cultist's legs to find he was wielding two lightsabers. He blocked her low strike and brought his knee up into her face. Kinsa cushioned her face with the Force to protect herself, but the blow still knocked her onto her back. The man shot a stream of lightning at her as she lay on the floor.

Kinsa brought her legs up over her head and pushed off with her hands, flipping back and landing on her feet. The lightning burned a circle in the grass where she had been lying. The man threw a lightsaber at her just as she landed. She ducked quickly to avoid the lightsaber. However, her long Lekku trailed behind her head as she ducked down, falling slower than the rest of her. The tip of her right Lekku was charred off by the searing blade as if flew past her head.

She screamed in pain and anger and brought her hands up to the man. Coursing dark purple lightning flew from her hands and arced towards the man. The burning tendrils lifted the man and bore into him. He yelled for a moment before disintegrating completely to ash. Her screams of pain continued and so did her channeling lightning. It spread out, arcing to other Bogan and even hitting a Jedi in front of her. She tried to stop it, but the pain continued fueling the lightning; she just couldn't control it. Her anger toward the Jedi who had slaughtered Natheera, the anger she had tried to smother, rose up again, continuing to fuel the terrible fire. Despite everything going on around her, her mind flashed back to Natheera's words. She was letting herself get taken over by the flood; she needed to control herself. She heard the screams of the people around her urging her to stop. Slowly, she got her emotions under control; she closed her anger off and stopped the flood of lightning. The combination of the pain from her Lekku and her use of the lightning caused her to fall to the ground. She felt the blackness start to close in and she had to fight to stay conscious.

Her vision slowly cleared and she saw a human Padawan standing before her, his small braid hanging over his shoulder. He stared at her, his face painted in shock and fear. She slowly got to one knee; her head rushed and she still couldn't stand up.

A ring of Jedi surrounded her, fighting the Bogan in a circle to protect her. She reached behind her and lightly grabbed at her head tail, pulling it forward to get a look at the damage. About a sixth of her left Lekku was chopped of; the wound was mostly cauterized, but there was a small hole surrounded by blackened burnt flesh. Deep-red blood mixed with clear brain fluid slowly drained out the hole. Luckily the lightsaber hadn't chopped off enough of the tendril to affect any of the brain matter held within. She'd heard stories of Twi'leks who had lost larger portions of their head tails and, as a result, had lost parts of their memory or had to re-learn some basic motor functions.

She slowly pushed herself to her feet, keeping her arms out to keep her balance.

"What was that?" the Padawan asked her, the horror still stuck on his face. "Did you create that lightning?"

Kinsa sighed; she knew she wouldn't be able to explain this to a Padawan. Even if she could, she wasn't sure if she should explain something so dark and damaging to someone so young and innocent.

"There's no time," she said quickly, her words slightly slurred, trying to brush off the Padawan's interest. "There's a war going on," she insisted.

Kinsa opened herself up; the Dark side within her was once again buried deep. She remembered the words of Natheera yet again; ignoring the Padawan's pestering, she sifted through her emotions, passing by the memory of Natheera's pained looks and remembering instead the small moments of friendship she'd had with the woman. She used these emotions and took the Light side in, breathing slowly and letting it calm her and block out the pain.

The aching of her bones and the stinging of her small cuts slowly faded away. Her tired muscles were revitalized and her remaining anger dwindled out. She jumped up and over the ring of fighting Jedi, slashing down as she landed, cutting through the top of a fighting man's skull. The other Jedi formed up beside her, all of them making a circle and battling the Bogan together.

 **N** amon watched the battle, extremely pleased with the success of his plan. There were still about eight hundred Jedi standing, roaming around the battlefield cutting down or capturing the remaining Bogan. Namon was surprised at how many of them refused to be taken captive; about half of the remaining cultists were choosing to fight to death rather than surrender.

He had to admit he'd felt a pang of guilt when he saw Zeeth fall. His previous second-in-command had fought valiantly until the end. His lightsaber had flashed with amazing speed and precision, making it look as if he were fighting with two blades at once. He'd only fallen when half a dozen Jedi had surrounded him on all sides, having slain or captured all the other Bogan in his area a long time ago. Zeeth had died after a long standoff with multiple lightsabers plunged into his body.

Namon turned now and headed to his parked ship; he didn't want to be here when the Jedi finished the battle. They would scour the small moon for any sign of survivors and, if Kinsa was still alive, she would no doubt make sure he was killed.

He reached his ship and started it back up. He looked back at the field that had become a successful, brutal slaughter. He shot his thrusters forward and cleared the atmosphere, leaving Qwill, the Jedi, his followers and Namon, Lord Marshal of the Bogan, behind.

 **B** urnt flesh. Kinsa had decided long ago that there was no smell in the entire Galaxy worse than burnt flesh. Nothing worse than the smell of unnaturally, artificially-burnt bodies. The quick burns of lightsabers and lightning created a smell that was distinctly different from flesh burnt by fire, and it was terrible. It was always strange to Kinsa how little blood there was after these battles. It reminded her of fighting with Republic troops during the war with the Sith. The blaster bolts and, in this case lightsabers, were so hot that they burned as they passed through a person's body, almost always cauterizing the wound. It didn't feel right to have so much death around her without the blood. Back on Nar Shaddaa the gangs had carried vibroknives and swords as well as blaster pistols; wars and skirmishes had flooded the streets with blood. The blood always smelt long before the authorities got around to clearing the bodies and cleaning the streets. Growing up, she had associated death with that smell, the smell of blood after it had been drained from the body. As gross as that smell was, she preferred it to the stronger, more present smell she had to deal with now. After the Republic's long campaign against the Sith army this was the smell she now associated with war and death. It was strange now, standing in the middle of the unbelievable carnage, with no blood soaking the ground and the only smell being charred body tissue and skin.

The Jedi had lost more than four hundred men and women in the short but brutal battle of Qwill. Their losses had been great but they had been nothing compared to the Bogan's; they had completely devastated the cult. They had killed about nine hundred cultists and had captured over three hundred; once the battle was clearly in the Jedi's favor many of them had thrown down their weapons and begged for peace.

It disgusted her. These people planned for who knew how long to murder every single Jedi. They had cut down hundreds of young Padawans and other Jedi, but now they begged for mercy and were granted it. Would the Bogan have granted the Jedi clemency had they pleaded for it? She doubted so. She knew she should be happy with their victory, with the good the Jedi had done, but she still felt angry. She wasn't sure who she was most angry with, the Jedi or the Bogan or herself. She knew she was certainly angry with herself; she had almost killed a Jedi because she had lost control.

The other reason Kinsa couldn't keep from being angry was they hadn't found Rogin among the dead or captured. No-one she had talked to had seen anyone matching Rogin's description on the battlefield. According to the captured Bogan she had spoken to, Rogin had flown one of the drop ships; he was supposed to join them after they jumped down, but he hadn't been seen by any of them since the battle had been joined.

Kinsa assumed he had just flown away after dropping the cultists off, but she couldn't understand why. What was the point of him fighting to be the leader of the cult and then attacking the Jedi if he was just going to leave them to die? If he didn't think they could have won, he could have just waited; if they trained and recruited, in no time at all, they would have been able to defeat the Jedi. It seemed like Rogin hadn't wanted to defeat the Jedi, but just wanted to create a scenario where the Jedi had killed all the members of this previously hidden cult. She should have just tried to kill him in his tent when she'd had the chance back on Jagudda. As angry as she was about letting him get away, Kinsa felt her path had crossed with Rogin's for a reason and she was certain she hadn't seen the last of him. The next time she met him she would make sure it was the last.

 **D** arth Millennial levitated slowly down to his students where they stood in the courtyard. They looked at up at him and cheered, of course elated by his return. This was exactly the same place they had been when he'd left almost a week ago; they'd probably been waiting out here, watching for his return. It made sense, of course; while he was there they thought they would be fine without him but, as soon as he left, they realized they couldn't live without him. If he didn't keep stores of food and water in the temple, they almost certainly would have died by now. As he landed softly on the stone floor, his followers looked up at him, exchanging hushed nervous whispers, no doubt about how foolish they had been to doubt and conspire against someone with such mastery over the Force. They sensed the strength that had been granted him by the mask of Darth Sanders.

They couldn't have been the ones projecting the monster into his mind, he decided in that moment; he was much too powerful for that. Even with their combined power, they never could have pierced through his impenetrable mind. It must have been a true vision from the Force as he had previously thought; his followers had just tried to capitalize on what they foolishly saw as a weakness. No more would he be haunted by the ominous vision of the coming monster. He now welcomed the chance to obliterate the foolish alien.

 **D** arth Cognus sat at her massive computer, sorting through her messages, putting together a picture of the outside world based on the words of her spies. She blew out a sigh of boredom as she stared at the screen, not really seeing or registering the words in front of her. She was honestly amazed at herself. For her entire life she had enjoyed, even required, her solitude. Then when she had joined the Sith having a Master, then an apprentice had been more of an annoyance than anything else. When she had sent away Namon she assumed she would be relieved to be alone once again, but after finishing off Set Harth she had grown bored. She wondered what she had done during her time alone after Darth Millenial to keep herself occupied but couldn't remember. She had no immediate projects and so had spent the last month and a bit just training against enemies she herself created, wracking her brain for something to do.

She perked up suddenly as a soft beeping alerted her to the presence of a ship coming in to land on the property. She switched windows so the computer was displaying the outside cameras and saw that it was indeed Namon coming in to land in the old transport ship.

She stood up from her seat and walked quickly towards the hangar. As she got to the ship, starting its landing and cool down procedures, she dropped her slight smile, trading it in for a more stern look. With a pop and a hiss the ramp lowered and Namon stepped down, his sword strapped to his back, he looked even taller than she remembered. She chalked it up to more refined and pungent Force she felt as she walked up to him, clearly he hadn't been slacking over these past few months.

They stood for a few seconds before Namon dropped to one knee.

"The cult is destroyed, they're all either dead or in Jedi custody, I'm sure they'll end up on a prison planet. The Jedi lost a few hundred well" He told her, his head bowed.

She nodded. "You did well, you can get cleaned up then I'd like to hear about it all in more detail."

Namon rose to his feet, once again towering over her.

"Thank you Master, it's good to be back."

"Good to have you back," she replied honestly before turning away, walking back to her study.


	20. Chapter 20

**Critiques/questions/reviews always welcome**

 **20**

" **T** hank you," Cognus told the small, nervous Rodian flickering blue on her Holocommunicator. "You will be rewarded."

She clicked off her communicator and dropped her heavy hood down. She leaned back in the oversized chair in her study, contemplating this new information. She had just been informed by one of her many eyes and ears in the Republic that there was a Jedi Master going from planet to planet, dismantling Dark-side cults and, more importantly, asking about a towering, black-scaled Barabel name Rogin. Cognus of course knew about these "Jedi Shadows" as they called themselves. The last whispers of a once formidable order, in her opinion the only real Jedi left, who hunted down what they thought were the last echoes of a once great empire. She had to admit that the feats of this Master Kinsa Una impressed her. Even taking into account the habit of exaggerating the Rodian criminal she employed had, she was still amazed at the number of and the size of the cults she'd completely wiped out. While the rest of the Jedi were relaxing, even the most adventurous of them giving themselves what they believed to be a well-deserved rest, it seemed this woman had only become more active after the Battle of Qwill.

She mulled it over for a few more minutes, her fingers tracing the ancient, worn script carved into her stone chair. The strands began to weave together in her mind, connecting slowly to form a plan. She rubbed harder and deeper at the grooves by her hand. Over the years of making her plans in this chair, the words on her arm rest were now significantly less visible than the rest of the words on the chair. Darth Cognus had always planned to send her apprentice to Dromund Kaas to dispose of Darth Millennial, partially because she wanted to be rid of him, but mostly, as a test for Namon; however, there had never been a time that it made sense. Before he received his sword he was so sloppy with his combat he wouldn't have stood a chance. Once he'd gotten it she'd been training him with the weapon. Then, by the time he was proficient with it, he had been busy dealing with the Cult on Jagudda, and now, based on the skills of her old apprentice, it would be no real challenge for Namon. His mastery over the Force had always been amazing and now he had considerable skill with his new weapon; it just didn't make sense sending him on a mission she knew he couldn't fail.

Now, however, things had changed; with this Jedi in the mix, things would be much more, uncertain. It would be utter chaos and only a master of all aspects of the Force could hope to survive. With the addition of the Light side warrior, it would be about more than martial strength. It would be a perfect test for her up-and-coming apprentice. She pulled her hood over her head again to obscure her face. She would call her contact and get him to whisper in the Jedi's ear rumours of Namon on Dromund Kaas. Then she would train with Namon one last time and try to iron out any major weaknesses. She wanted this to test him, but she also wanted him to survive. It would be such a bother finding another apprentice and, she admitted to herself, she quite liked this one.

 **J** edi Master Kinsa Una stared at herself in the mirror, amazed at the change in herself. She reminded herself of the disguise she had worn almost a year ago. Her face was littered with small scars and her once soft, bright eyes seemed physically darker. They held the hardness of someone who had seen and caused too much death. Her face seemed shrunken in, sharper and bonier than it had been. The tip of her right Lekku had been replaced with a piece of light-weight metal. She'd traded in her traditional brown Jedi robes for high leather boots, flexible spandex pants and a loose cotton shirt. These clothes let her blend in and get into places where Jedi weren't welcome. She'd also found the oversized, billowing robes to be somewhat of a hazard when in battle; this was simply more practical.

The greatest change, however, couldn't be seen in the mirror; she had grown colder. When she had started going on missions again, she had planned to use her Light-side emotions, but it had been harder than she'd thought. There were so few of her emotions that were purely good; even the ones that inspired the Light-side had negative emotions attached to them as well. So, every time she manipulated her emotions for her needs, a twinge of Darkness came along with it. Over time, that small amount built up to the point where all her emotions, all her memories were just grey and dull.

She still didn't regret the path she had chosen; she was proud of the difference she had made in the Galaxy despite the price she had paid. While she was proud of what she had done, she had only grown more bitter and disappointed in the Jedi. For some reason. she had thought after the war it would be different, that they would be invigorated, that the Council would see the danger in staying away from the rest of the Galaxy and would send more people out, that more people would want to go. If anything, it had become even worse than it was before. Now the younger Jedi who, before, had been arguing that the Jedi should be more effective and threatening to separate, were just as content to sit around as the older members of the order.

Eight months ago, she had been called back to Coruscant to be granted the title of Jedi Master. She was younger than most Masters but, after her role in the war of Qwill and her clear devotion to the Force and to the Galaxy, the council chose to bestow the honour upon her.

When she was back, she'd had to focus to keep from feeling angry or jealous at the Jedi she'd seen walking around her. They wore smiling, joyful faces, as if they had all forgotten the devastating war only a few months ago, as if they had forgotten how easily Darkness could rise up in secret. They were all blissfully unaware of the sacrifices she and others like her had made.

On the way to the council chambers, she had seen another Jedi. His scarred, pitted face displayed the emotions she felt, a sharp contract to the clueless, happy expressions of the other Jedi. She could see from his outfit, Jedi robes overtop a plain shirt with plates of armor woven into and behind the cloth, that he was a Sentinel. His uniform was worn and overused, standing out from the crisp, fresh robes of the other Jedi.

As they passed their eyes met for a moment and Kinsa knew he was no ordinary Sentinel. She saw the hard look in his eyes and the weariness hidden behind his grim, determined face. In the sea of Light, she had felt the grey inside him, slightly tainted by the things he had done. As they looked into each other's eyes, Kinsa felt the man reaching out to her, and she had tried to reach out and comfort him. It had been such a short moment, but it had meant so much. In those few seconds of contact she had felt understanding, sympathy, and encouragement, and she had done her best to make him feel the same. It helped her get through the low times, reminded her that there were others out there like her, all doing their part. She accepted the possibility that it had just been a glance and her mind had filled in the rest out of necessity but in her heart she knew it was more than that.

When she'd gotten to the council room, she had gone through the big long ceremony. When she was a Padawan, all she could ever think about was becoming a Jedi Master, but now it didn't even excite her. She saw it was just a title; nothing changed. She didn't magically become a better fighter, nor was she granted instant knowledge. She would still be going out and doing the same thing she had been doing before.

After she received the title, she had spoken in private with Master Sifu, the closest thing she had left to a friend. Then she was still optimistic about her new ideas of the Light side and the Dark. She'd told him how when the Jedi blocked up all their emotions, even their good ones, it made them weak. She'd expected the council, and even Master Sifu, to be hesitant in listening to her opinions, but she was still shocked when he shot her down completely. He told her that it was impossible to block out only some emotions: it was either all or nothing. Looking back now she still wasn't sure she agreed with him; she understood his hesitation more now than she did then, but she still thought that it could work. Just because she hadn't solved it completely, she still thought that if all the Jedi worked on it together they could figure it out.

Kinsa had left the Jedi Temple that day and hadn't been back. If she was being honest with herself, she no longer even considered herself a Jedi. She had no connection to any other Jedi and she disagreed with them on so many things, she didn't even have contact with anyone anymore. Before the war, she used to talk to Master Sifu and a few Jedi Knights she had grown somewhat close to on her Holo communicator while she was out in the field between missions. Now, she only talked to other Jedi when receiving assignments from the Shadow Council.

Even that was slowly dropping off; being so entrenched in the world of Dark side, she often found rumours of activity on her own before the Council did and went to investigate by herself without informing anyone. Another thing that had dropped off was her check-ins. It was supposed to be necessary for Jedi Shadows to check in with the Shadow Council and the Jedi Council, to catch them up on their progress and to talk about how everything was affecting them. You were never supposed to go more than one standard month without a check-in; it had been five months since her last one. The first time she missed it, she was undercover and wasn't in a position to call back to Coruscant.

She'd expected there to be messages asking where she was and why she hadn't checked in, but once she was done dealing with the cult she'd checked her communicator and there was nothing. Not one message from any of her superiors asking why she'd missed check in, they just didn't care. So, if they didn't care, she figured what was the point wasting her time. As each month passed by she was less and less surprised when she didn't get a call, and a bit more disappointed.

Even though she told herself she didn't care, she knew it wasn't true. She felt like she had been forgotten, like she was just an expendable soldier who had been thrown haphazardly at a broken Galaxy. No matter how much she reminded herself that she had chosen this life for herself, she still felt betrayed by the Jedi. It was petty, childish and selfish, but she felt that, for everything she was doing she deserved to be remembered and cared for.

Despite all the work she was doing, all the Dark artifacts she had destroyed and all the cults she had dismantled, part of her still felt like she was failing. She'd felt the Darkness in the Galaxy and she felt like she hadn't even scratched the surface. Besides, no matter what she did Rogin was still out there. On every planet she landed on she asked about the monstrous, scaled Force user named Rogin, but she hadn't heard anything about him; he seemed to have disappeared completely.

She turned from the mirror and looked at her navigation computer. According to her instruments, it would be about two more hours and she would be coming up on Trill. She turned from the cockpit to her small bunk; she knew she should try to get a bit of sleep before she got there.

A week ago, just before she was about to ask the Shadow Council for another mission, she had been contacted by a mysterious Rodian about information. He had refused to talk over communicator, so now she was heading there to speak to him in person.

 **N** amon held his sword low, his right hand near the pommel, the tip just centimeters from the ground. He faced his Master and planned his first strike. Ever since his mission with the Bogan, he had specialized his combat. On offence he utilized a heavily-modified version of form five combat, Djem So, with mixes of form seven, Juyo. It focused on heavy blows rather than quick stabs, letting the blade build momentum, escalating the speed and strength of the strikes as the fight went on until his opponent could no longer keep up. He also used many unarmed attacks on offence, using his Barabel training, his rock-hard scales and sharp claws to devastating effect. On defence, he fell into a cross of form three, Soresu and an unarmed combat style he had developed. Because his sword was heavier and therefore slower than a lightsaber, it was impossible for him to keep up on defence with an equally skilled opponent. He had been practicing using the Force to keep lightsabers at bay, using a mix of the Force and his thick scales to protect him. He'd gotten much better at it since the assassination attempt on Jagudda; now he could take a direct stab or slash from a lightsaber and come away with nothing but a light burn. He could leave a clear opening for an opponent so that, when they struck, expecting to slice or cut through him, he could capitalize on their surprise and poor position to secure victory.

As he stood facing Darth Cognus, he rifled through his memories and brought up the sadness he had felt when he'd seen Zeeth die. The sad emotions started up and he transformed it into rage: rage at the Jedi for killing him, at himself for letting it happen, and at Darth Cognus before him who had masterminded the entire thing. He then used his anger to gather power within and he fed his blade, letting it drink deeply in his massive pool of Dark-side energy before amplifying it and pouring more back into him. The vicious cycle continued until his pool was overflowing with Dark energy and he could no longer contain it.

He raised his hand and released a single thin bolt of electricity aimed at his Master. Rather than bat it away or absorb lightning, she jumped over it, sailing well over the bolt and closing the distance between them. Namon waited as his Master descended down on him and he swung his blade up to meet her. Expecting his attack, she tucked her knees up to her chest, letting the sword pass harmlessly underneath her. She continued forward and landed with her legs still bent atop his broad chest in a crouch, and slashed with one of her Shoto's at his face. Namon stood firm under the light weight of his Master and easily twisted his head back to dodge her attack. Before he could retaliate, Darth Cognus pushed off his chest and flipped herself backwards.

As she flew through the air, she pressed the secondary activator on her lightsaber, causing it to snap into a Tonfa shape running parallel with her forearm. Before she landed, she ignited her second lightsaber and threw it at him. Namon saw his Master's bright blue lightsaber flipping towards him. He ducked out of the way and, before the short lightsaber could return to her he absorbed power from Qyâsik Derriphan and released a wide wave of energy at his Master.

The blast of energy, invisible to the eye but plainly visible to Namon, travelled quickly across the room. Darth Cognus had her Force shield up and was able to absorb the brunt of the blow. What remained of the attack was still sufficient to launch her backwards a couple of meters and onto her back. It broke her telekinetic hold on the lightsaber; he heard it extinguish and clatter to the ground behind him.

 **T** he air was quickly forced from her lungs as Cognus smashed onto her back. Ignoring her body's pleas for a moment of rest, she sprung back to her feet. She looked up to see Namon flying at her, his sword raised high above his head. She stepped to the side as he landed, avoiding his sword rather than attempting to block the devastating blow. Surprisingly, he was able to change the direction of his blade before it hit the floor, wrenching it to the side, slashing sideways at her legs. She jumped up to avoid the blade, hearing it swish as it sped past her feet. Almost as soon as she landed, she had to squat low to avoid another two-handed slash aimed at her chest.

This continued on, her ducking and weaving to avoid his attacks. To the untrained eye, it would look like she was controlling the fight, teasing him as she easily dodged his strikes but able to end it at any time she wanted. This wasn't the truth; while she was successfully avoiding his flying blade, this was truly to Namon's advantage. The more she dodged, the more momentum would be built, until eventually he would be moving too fast for her to dodge. She couldn't simply block, because the strength of his attacks would force her to take a moment to recover, a moment she didn't have. She couldn't attack him because, with only one saber she would have no defence if she missed or if he managed to absorb the blow, as he had surprised her with many times in the past. She knew it was hard work for him to keep this up, continually changing the direction of the blade, but she also knew she couldn't count on the towering man to tire.

This seeming lack of options didn't cause her any worry. As an assassin she had prided herself on quick thinking and ingenuity, always having something up her sleeve. Her arsenal of tricks had grown exponentially since becoming a Sith. Her apprentice had become an impressive martial force, but he was still no match for her.

 **O** n a downward diagonal cut, Darth Cognus suddenly brought her guard Shoto up to block, bringing her other hand up to grab her Cortosis laced gauntlet to support her defences. As his sword came crashing down on her defences, she was still forced to one knee from the weight behind the blow. Namon, however, was too surprised at her sudden change of tactics to seize his momentary advantage. Darth Cognus pushed off with her right leg, moving inside Namon's sword and letting it fall behind her. As she stepped inside of his guard, she placed her hand on his chest and used the Force to push him backwards.

He was lifted off his feet and pushed a couple of meters away from her. He managed to land back on his feet, skidding backwards for a few seconds before coming to a stop.

"You need to pay more attention," she told him as they both caught their breath, her words dripping with condescension. "You can't fall into a routine that your opponent can start to predict; you need to be ready to change at a moment's notice. I gave you the perfect opportunity and you failed to act. If you're ever going to become leader of the Sith, you need to learn to seize every opportunity put before you."

 **A** s she spoke. Cognus subtly used the Force to enflame her apprentice's emotions. Namon's only response was a hissing growl as he charged at her, just as she'd planned. She stood still as he charged at her, still gathering a small amount of Force, waiting until he got close enough for her attack to be effective. He lifted his sword high just as Cognus released her stored Force in a brilliant explosion. Not an explosion of physical energy but of brilliant, white light. She shut her eyes tightly and could still see the burning light, shining red through her eyelids.

 **A** s long as he had lived in this world of daylight, Namon's eyes had never fully adjusted from the blackness of his home world. Darth Cognus' light attack was devastating. It felt like the light had already burned through his eyes and was reaching further in, trying to scorch his brain. It reminded him of his first morning on Alkaroe, but so much worse.

Eventually, spots of vision began forming in his world of white and he was confident he wasn't truly blinded. He couldn't even think about fighting during this time and he wondered why his Master hadn't ended it already. His vision finally returned and he could see her fuzzy form, arms crossed and lightsaber hilt hanging from her belt. He stared at her until her blurry image returned to normal. Looking at her now, something seemed off, a tiny nagging that he refused to hear. He ignored his slight paranoia and strode towards her. Moving slowly and steadily, he let his anger build as he moved, empowering Qyâsik Derriphan and himself. He was determined to end her, this embodiment of arrogance. There was a time when he would have been angry at her for using such tricks, but now he saw how foolish that had been. A true warrior only has one word in his code, "win." He applauded his Master's tactics; she had played to her strengths and exploited his weakness. He was infuriated with her because she had patronized him, dragging out the fight for his benefit, so confident in her victory; as if he was a toy to be played with or a child that a parent was coddling when they had no chance.

He exploded into action suddenly, dashing forward and swiping with his left hand at her face, reaching for her with his razor-sharp claws extended. She quickly leaned back and managed to avoid his grasp. He followed up immediately by heaving his sword upwards, aiming to split her in half. Darth Cognus simply continued leaning back and pushed off with her legs, and flipping onto her hands, avoiding the blade before completing the flip and landing back on her feet. She grabbed her lightsaber from her belt and ignited it, using it as a regular Shoto rather than a saber Tonfa. Again, he felt something wrong; again he pushed it away.

 **C** ognus watched, holding onto one of the support beams as Namon battled her illusion. Maintaining this illusion at the same time as hiding her Force signature was relatively simple, especially against someone as distracted as her apprentice. She had the ability to create solid illusions, who could be touched and do real physical damage, but they were significantly more complicated. It was also something she wanted to keep from Namon; she needed some secrets to reveal the on the day her apprentice challenged her. Instead, she had created a phantom, capable only of wielding an already-existing lightsaber. If Namon or his weapon actually touched it, it would pass right through and the illusion would fade away.

 **F** ueled by his righteous anger, Namon was moving faster than he'd ever moved before. His sword drank in his anger and led his attacks; it felt as if the blade was swinging, moving his arms along, instead of the other way around. Slowly but surely, he felt himself gaining the advantage. His Master was tiring and slowing and he was only speeding up as his rage and his momentum steadily grew. He felt the moment of victory coming upon him. As angry as he was, he was no amateur fool, he wasn't blinded by his emotion; he knew it would be exceedingly stupid to kill her. He still had much to learn from her and he knew he was nowhere near ready to become the sole Lord of the Sith. The focus of his training had this far mostly been in the aspects of combat and Force mastery. He had no idea how to further the plans of the Sith, what plans his Master had in motion or how to make plans of his own.

So, as the final moment came, as he was slashing down on her and knew she was in no position to block or dodge, he aimed his blade for the outside of her shoulder rather than her head or neck. She would most likely lose all or part of her arm. It could be easily reconstructed and she could continue to teach him, but she would never dare to treat him like some under-developed child again.

He would have smiled if he wasn't so preoccupied with his rage as his sword descended down upon her, his victory assured. He grew excited in anticipation of the feeling of cutting roughly through meat and bone. He could feel the hunger of Qyâsik Derriphan, wanting to be quenched by the blood of his Master. But then nothing. His strike continued unimpeded and he almost fell forward, so off balance because of this unexpected turn of events. His shock multiplied when his Master simply dissipated into mist and disappeared. He sensed something fall behind him and, with the snap-hiss of an igniting lightsaber, it all fell into place. He felt the heat of a lightsaber millimeters from his spine and heard the dreaded words he had heard a thousand and one times.

"Dun Möch." his Master said behind him, no smugness or disappointment in her voice, simply stating a fact.

"Take a seat," she told him, extinguishing the lightsaber at his back and recalling the other one from where it had fallen. "I have a lesson for you."

Namon groaned inwardly; he knew he needed these lessons, but still he couldn't help but despise them.

"And a mission," she said as she sat down on the hard floor.

This brought Namon out of his slight depression.

"Do you know why I beat you?" she asked once they'd gotten settled. "It's not because I'm a better fighter than you, though I am," she said with a smile without waiting for an answer. "You lost because of your pride. You saw yourself as too good to be dismissed by me and you focused solely on defeating me to teach me a lesson. If you had kept your pride in check and paid attention to your surroundings, you would have been able to see that what you were fighting was merely an illusion. I have taught you to abandon your honour, how the insects of the world both present and future see you, but you must also learn to dismiss your pride. That is how you see yourself. Pride more than anything else has been the unraveling of the galaxies' greatest beings. The moment you see yourself as too good for something or too great and mighty to be undone by someone is the moment before that thing or being destroys you."

Namon nodded his head, soaking in the lesson. As much as he hated them, he could never doubt their usefulness.

"And now," she said, her tone becoming slightly less serious, "for your mission."

All thoughts of the lesson were shoved to the back of his mind at the mention of another assignment.

"Do you know why you have not been granted the moniker of Darth?" she asked him.

"No," he replied. "I thought perhaps you only received the title when you defeated your Master, and so I would receive it when I defeated you."

"IF you defeat me," she replied with a grin. "But no. Normally you would have received the Darth title at the same time that you chose your new name, but I withheld it from you."

Namon sat in stunned silence and tried to keep any emotions from showing on his face. Why would she do that? Did she think he wasn't good enough? He'd done everything she'd ever asked him to do and he'd done it all perfectly. Before he freaked out, he brought to mind his Master's recent lesson and managed to keep his pride in check and not get angry. He knew there had to be an explanation.

"As you know, you're not my first apprentice," she told him slowly, every word calm and measured. "My first was a human mutant, Darth Millennial. He was my apprentice for four years, but we disagreed on many things, chief among them Darth Bane's rule of two. He knew he could not defeat me but, refusing to remain under my tutelage, he fled to the ancient Sith world of Dromund Kaas. There he has set up a cult of followers, and there you will defeat him. Only when you have slain him, stripping him of his life and his title, will you be worthy to hold the title of Darth Namon."

If he was surprised before, Namon was absolutely stunned now. So many emotions swirled around him and he was trying to sort it all out: surprise at this new revelation, excitement over his new assignment, and a twinge of anger and betrayal that Darth Cognus had never said anything about the rules of the title before now, he would have gone after the old apprentice if he had known. After a minute of trying to work it out, Darth Cognus spoke up and interrupted him.

"Any questions?"

Namon had a few questions but he knew none of them were things Darth Cognus wanted to hear.

"Only one: when do I leave?"

Darth Cognus gave him one of her cruel smiles.

 **S** he loved it when a plan came together


	21. Chapter 21

**Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome**

A/N at end

 **21**

 **M** aster Kinsa stepped off her ship and was immediately assaulted by a small green Rodian speaking in heavily-accented basic.

"Master Jedi. You came. Thank you, thank you."

"No. No thank you," she responded, hoping this trip wouldn't be for nothing. Since becoming a Shadow, she had received a dozen fake tips. "You told me you had some information for me?"

"Yes. I know where your monster is."

"Rogin? The Barabel?" She practically yelled, feeling excited for the first time in months.

"Yes, yes. He is on Dromund Kaas."

Kinsa knew that name; if she remembered correctly, it was an ancient Sith planet. It had been the core world of the last great Sith Empire almost two thousand years ago. After the Republic and Sith war ended, the Jedi had attempted to cleanse it of the Dark side but, as far as she knew, it remained largely unpopulated. It would make sense for someone like Rogin to go there and hide.

"Do you know anything else?" she hurriedly asked the tiny Rodian.

"No sir. Just that he's working with some other bad one on Dromund Kaas."

"Thank you," she told the man as she ran quickly back to her ship; she had to get there as soon as possible. She didn't want him to escape her again. She jumped into the pilot's chair and set a course for the Outer Rim territories. She wasn't sure where Dromund Kaas was exactly, but she'd be able to find out by the time she got to that end of the Galaxy.

 **D** arth Millennial felt it coming; the dark monster's time was near. All he got when he opened himself to the Force was still the monstrous figure, but somehow it felt more present; he couldn't explain it, but he knew it was coming. He exited his meditation chamber and looked over his flock. Even though he had lost some followers, he was still certain he had enough to overwhelm the false Sith, especially now that he had brought them under his will once again with his iron fist.

"Disciples of the Force, my Children of the Dark side," he addressed them, his commanding voice booming over the courtyard. "Soon there comes a destroyer, an evil dark assassin bent on corrupting the Sith and destroying the new Brotherhood of Darkness." He looked down, pleased to see the faces of his followers etched in fear. "But cease your worrying, for he is only one man and he stands no chance against our army. We prevail."

 **N** amon shut the ship down and looked around to make sure he had everything. He grabbed his sword and strapped it along with the scabbard to the loop on his back. He grabbed his lightsaber and placed it on the belt around his waist. He hated the weapon, but he knew it had its uses. It could cut through almost anything and, if he was separated from Qyâsik Derriphan it would be good for him to have it as backup. He grabbed his VDV-100 Holocommunicator in case he needed to contact his Master for anything. He opened the door to the ship and stepped onto the ground.

His favorite part of his new life was this moment, when he took his first steps onto a new world. Every planet felt unique: strange ground, new smells and the different Force swirling around. He could feel the Dark side here but, after the living, pulsating Force of Vorass, being surrounded by his Master's overwhelming Force on Aargonar and surrounded by the cultists on Jugudda it felt stale and dead here. He heard a strange cracking above him and looked up into the sky. When he had flown to the planet, he had passed through a strange thick cloud, but he thought it was just an overcast night. Now, looking, up he saw it was some kind of unnatural coverage. The entire sky, as far as he could see, was covered with dark grey clouds filled with lightning. He didn't understand how a place that had clearly been so completely controlled by the Dark side felt so dead to it now; he felt it here but he couldn't draw into it. Even though he couldn't use the Force around him, he could feel the Darkness swirling around behind him, draining into Qyâsik Derriphan behind him. Darth Simus' sword truly lived up to his name.

 **A** s soon as she entered the atmosphere, Master Kinsa felt the Dark side pressing in on her, choking out her strength. Her ship rocked as it travelled through the dark storm clouds. She had many experiences with the Dark side inhabiting the planets she visited, but she still hadn't gotten used to the drastic shock of it when she entered the atmosphere. It always took her a few minutes to adjust to the sudden change. She knew that this planet had once been a Sith world and, clearly, the Jedi's attempts to cleanse it had failed; she wasn't surprised the Jedi had just given up when it didn't work. When she passed through the clouds, she craned her neck to look out the window back at them. The clouds looked somehow menacing and she assumed they had been somehow created by a Dark ritual; this entire planet was just a testament to the Jedi's failure.

As she searched for a place to land, she saw a blip on her radar. There was another ship nearby, close enough for her radar to pick it up. She brought her ship in low to check it out. The large, unmarked, black cargo ship was parked in a large clearing, so she brought her ship down beside it.

She got up from her chair and moved to the back of the ship, grabbing her utility belt and strapping it on. Her belt had her lightsaber, restraining cuffs, medical stims and Kolto shots, her stun baton and a few other things she had learned to carry as a Jedi Shadow. She left the ship and felt the Dark side pushing back at her as she stepped forward, as if it was trying to Force her back onto the ship. She pushed through the Dark Force around her, letting the Light side within her expand outward to keep the Dark, crushing world at bay.

She saw no-one in the ship and, with the Dark side clouding her slightly, she couldn't sense anything about the owner of the ship. When she looked around, however, she saw large, deep footprints in the mossy wet grass. It was a strange footprint, as big as a boot but with individual digits like a bare foot. Kinsa assumed these were Rogin's, but that didn't make sense. If he was a part of the cult residing on this planet, why would there be such recent footprints, and where had he gone? And, even if he had left, why would he be landing out in the middle of nowhere, presumably kilometers from the temple. Whatever the reason, Rogin had left a set of clear tracks that would be easy to follow. Kinsa checked to make sure she had everything and took off, jogging after Rogin.

 **D** arth Millennial sat for one last time in his meditation chamber. He chanted under his breath in the ancient Sith language, trying to commune with the Force. He was preparing to open himself up to a vision; he needed to see something before the mysterious man came. He finished his chant and opened his third eye, trying to will the vision to rush into him.

The room around him suddenly disappeared and he was floating around his outer courtyard. He flew closer to the floor and he saw something. A body in black, burnt robes lying mangled on the stone floor, blood draining from its head into a pool on the grey ground. As he got closer, the body seemed to roll over on its back by itself and he saw his own face, bloody and broken, staring vacantly back at him.

The vision snapped away and he returned to his meditation chamber, his black robes sticking to his body, drenched with sweat. An acolyte ran into the room and bowed quickly, panting from his rushed run up the stone steps.

"Master, we've seen someone coming; he's only a few minutes away."

Still reeling from his vision, Darth Millennial stood up slowly, his legs shaking beneath him. He stepped unsteadily out of his meditation chamber. He looked down on his disciple who was eyeing him strangely. He quickly stood straight and got his body under control. He gave the acolyte a cold stare and walked past him down the stone steps. His disciples were all huddled close together in the courtyard. The apprentice squeezed past him as he ran down the stairs and blended into the throng.

"Let him enter the fortress, and then we will crush him," he yelled, working to keep his voice from shaking and betraying his emotions.

The vision continued to flash through his mind, haunting him. He felt the pulsating Dark presence coming from the other side of the wall. It felt strange, like there were two separate but connected beings on the other side of the wall. He moved slowly so his group of disciples was between him and the strange Force signature on the other side of the wall.

The group of fifty disciples milled about, whispering quietly and urgently. The older ones seemed to be giving some orders to the younger ones. Darth Millennial didn't care what they were saying as long as they were between him and the mysterious Force hunting him.

Without warning, the wall imploded, knocking the acolytes closest to it back and showering everyone else with tiny stones and a thin layer of dust. When the dust finally settled, he saw the vision that had been haunting him for so long.

A gigantic towering mass of scales and muscles stood in the large hole in the temple's wall, his black scales given a tinge of grey by the dust that had settled on him. He wore nothing but a pair of loose brown pants, his shirtless chest covered in a large, angry scar. He had something Darth Millenial couldn't see strapped to his back and a lightsaber hilt hanging from his belt loop; this was the exact image he had been haunted by for what felt like an entire lifetime. The beast seemed even larger and more imposing because of his awesome and confusing Force signature. It felt like a tornado of the Dark side, sucking in the power around it and growing continually larger.

 **N** amon could not have been more shocked at the scene that lay before him. His Master had told him Darth Millennial had started a cult, so he'd been expecting a large group of people he'd have to deal with, but nothing like this. Before him stood at least four dozen human children, looking up at him with terrified faces, some with tears streaming down their fleshy cheeks. The oldest of them couldn't have been more than thirteen and the majority of them looked somewhere in the age range of four to six. He stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. He knew he needed to kill the man he saw standing behind the crowd of children, trying to hide while towering above them, but he couldn't kill these kids.

"Attack him, crush him, kill him," the hooded man in the back shrieked at the children.

Namon still refused to draw his sword; he wasn't sure what he would do if these children attacked him, but it certainly wouldn't be to fight. He supposed he could use the Force to detain or stop this strange army without hurting them, but then, while he was doing that, he would be open to an attack from Darth Millennial.

This was the being his Master had chosen to be her first apprentice? What kind of a man hid behind children in a battle.

He understood the benefits of finding and recruiting Force sensitives at a younger age so you could train them longer, but expecting them to fight for you seemed despicable.

Suddenly, the entire group of children ran outward, parting like a sea and staying on the outer edges of the courtyard, leaving a huge, wide path to Darth Millennial.

With the children out of the way and out of his thoughts, Namon could see the man he had been sent to kill for the first time. He was tall for a human and extremely skinny. He was clad in a black robe that clung to his tiny frame. He wore a hood, but Namon could still see the terrified look on his face as he looked around at his followers who had suddenly disappeared. He was at least sixty years old with long, messy white hair and a large white beard that hung down to his chest. Strangely, unlike most Dark-side followers, he had bright blue eyes. Even stranger was his third eye. In the middle of his forehead, a few centimeters above his other eyes sat a smaller, orange eye. What a weird man, first with the children, and now this. Darth Cognus had told him her last apprentice was a mutant, but he hadn't expected anything this dramatic. Namon wasn't exactly sure what had just happened; he figured the young children had just become scared and decided not to fight. He drew his sword from his back and slowly walked through the parted sea of children, still fearing some kind of trap.

"What are you doing?" the man yelled as Namon walked forward. "Kill him; I command you to kill him now, you traitors," he cried hysterically.

Namon didn't know the back story of this situation and he didn't care. He stood before the small trembling man and marveled again at his Master's choice. How could she have ever thought this man, this coward that hid behind his child followers, could ever lead the Sith. Suddenly, the man stopped shaking and the fear in his face melted away. He reached into his robes and pulled out a mask. It was an unmarked white mask that reflected hundreds of small pinpoints of light. Namon assumed it was some kind of artifact, but he couldn't sense any Force radiating from it as he did with most Sith artifacts. The man placed the mask on his face and Namon nearly laughed aloud when he saw it barely clinging to his face; clearly, he was not the original owner.

Before he dismissed the man completely, he remembered his Master's lesson about pride. The moment he thought he was too good to be defeated by someone was the moment before it happened, so, no matter what he thought of this man, he wouldn't let his guard down for a second. The man reached into his robe and grabbed his lightsaber; he ignited it and the shining crimson blade appeared in the dark, starless night.

**D** arth Millennial stared at the monstrous alien as he stalked towards him; he would wait for the fool to make the first move. He no longer feared the beast; he understood it all now. The vision had been a warning from the Force, a blessing. Then, when he had gotten his mask and his followers had realized how mighty and dangerous he had become, THEY had planted the vision of him lying dead in his mind to confuse and frighten him. They had been planning all along to abandon him in his moment of need. Darth Millennial looked into the eyes of his followers and pulled his robe off, letting it flop to the ground. He saw in their faces that they understood the significance behind the move. He was showing that he wasn't afraid. How could the vision of him lying on the ground, buried in his burnt robes, come true if he wasn't even wearing the robes at all? He was showing them that he knew how deep their deception went. Despite all this, he would prevail; they had made the mistake of underestimating him, of underestimating his link to the Darkness. With the mask, there was no chance he would be defeated by this barbarian. And then he would bring the fires of vengeance down on them. He would burn them all from existence, each and every one of them. He used the anger over their betrayal and the sweet anticipation of their demise to open up his channel to the Mistress, letting her gifts and strength fill him as he waited for the reptilian monster.

It suddenly bounded forward, closing the distance between them rapidly. Without letting him get close, Darth Millennial released his Force in a torrent of Force lightning, hoping to end this fight quickly so he could get to punishing his followers.

 **N** amon was surprised at the strained, ropey muscles on the man's arms; clearly, he still followed some training regiment. The man now stood with his lightsaber drawn in nothing but loose black pants. Even though he had more muscles than Namon had expected, seeing him like this made him seem even more vulnerable. His chest was shrunken in and his ribs were protruding so far it seemed like they were about to burst from his paper-thin skin. The skin of his abdomen was even lighter than his face; he seemed to be nothing but a ghost. Now that his robes were off, he saw the dozens of trinkets adorning the ghastly man. He had golden necklaces dangling from his neck and his claw like fingers were covered with ridiculous-looking rings. He looked stupid with the abundance of jewelry, an ill-fitting mask and no shirt.

He saw the lightning streaming towards him. Instead of altering his course or buffing up his Force shield, he simply held Qyâsik Derriphan out in front of him and kept running. The white-blue lightning arced towards the sword, filtering into the tip. The blade changed from its usual dark grey to a shining white, small flecks of electricity shooting off the blade. He felt a surge of energy and strength shooting from the blade into him. It felt good to see the pitiful man's shocked face as he came bearing down on him. He was seconds away from Darth Millennial with his glowing sword raised above his head, somewhat disappointed at how quickly this would end.

"Rogin!"

A scream broke through the night, freezing Namon mid-attack. It felt strange to hear his old name; it felt as if that was a completely different person. He was about to turn around when he was blasted from the front by the Force. He sailed away from Darth Millennial and landed on his back, skidding across the stone floor. His sword flew from his hands as he slammed to the ground. It clattered to the ground, discharging its pent-up electricity harmlessly.

Namon quickly stood up and looked to the wall he had come through. He cursed under his breath. It was his previous Jedi captor and soldier of his army, Kinsa. She was wearing plain pants and shirt instead of robes and her skin was a pale yellow again. He had planned to eventually track her down to see how her descent into the Dark side was going, but now was not the time he wanted to meet her. He looked over his shoulder at Darth Millennial to see how he was reacting to all of this.

A/N: I don't put many twists or surprises in my stories but I hope you all liked that one.


	22. Chapter 22

**Critiques/questions/reviews always welcome**

 **22**

 **K** insa immediately regretted yelling and drawing attention to herself. She didn't understand the situation and she should have watched and waited for longer until she knew what was going on. Now she may have to fight Rogin and the masked, shirtless man at the same time. She stepped through the large, inexplicable hole in the wall and immediately became exponentially more confused. Standing against the walls of the compound on either side was about forty or fifty children. She had no idea what was going on, whether this was a real fight or a training exercise. Why were there only two adults in this supposed cult and who had made this fresh-looking hole? No matter the situation, she knew she definitely should have let it play out before getting involved, but it was too late now.

She ignited her lightsaber and continued moving towards the two men; no matter the strange circumstances, she had finally found Rogin, and this would be the end.

 **D** arth Millennial watched as this "Rogin" reached out and called his strange sword back into his hand. The scaled man was staring at the yellow Twi'lek Jedi as she slowly stalked towards him. Seeing Rogin's distraction, Darth Millennial threw his lightsaber towards the man's broad, scaly back. Rogin ducked as the blade neared him, apparently sensing the attack without looking. Darth Millennial let his lightsaber continue until it reached the unknown Jedi woman. She crouched down and jumped up, launching over the lightsaber and coming down on Rogin. He held his sword up to block her wild down stroke and, amazingly, it stopped her lightsaber; this man's sword was continuing to surprise Darth Millennial. Rogin moved his sword to the left, forcing the woman to lean over to her right. Rogin brought his knee up, slamming it into the Jedi's ribs. Millennial dashed towards them; the Force had granted him the gift of this Jedi to help him defeat the monster, so he needed to keep her alive as long as possible.

 **K** insa gasped, trying to regain her breath. She sensed something behind her and dashed to the left just as the human's lightsaber flew past her on its return trip to its owner. Rogin swung his sword, batting the lightsaber away rather than trying to avoid it. She looked beyond Rogin for a moment and saw the masked human running towards them, grabbing his lightsaber out of the air. It seemed as though the man shouldn't even be alive anymore. He looked like a tall skeleton with the thinnest layer of skin draped over his bones. He had strangely large, muscular arms that looked like they belonged on a different body. As he ran, dozens of gold chains sloshed around, banging into his face and chest and making him look even more ridiculous. He was running fast, but with a slight hunch; it would have given him away as an older man even if Kinsa couldn't see his sunken body. He was clearly using the Force to keep up his speed and strength. Kinsa didn't know this man and he was clearly a follower of the Dark side, but nonetheless she could use him as an ally.

Rogin brought a hard cut down on her and she brought her lightsaber up to block it. The strength behind the sword rocked her, almost pushing her onto back.

"Upgraded your equipment since the last time we fought?" she grunted, struggling to keep his sword away from her.

He hissed back at her, showing his sharp teeth.

"That's not the only thing that's changed," he responded, pressing down onto her even harder.

Kinsa managed to push the sword up and she saw the masked man rushing towards Rogin's back, his lightsaber extended. Kinsa slashed at his stomach, hoping he couldn't block both attacks at the same time. Rogin brought his sword up behind him, blocking the human's over handed chop. At the same time, he swung his free arm to meet Kinsa's lightsaber. She expected to slice right through his arm but, instead, her weapon was forced back as if it had been batted away by another lightsaber. Before she could recover from her shock, Rogin lifted his leg and kicked her square in the chest.

 **N** amon pushed his sword and Darth Millennial's lightsaber back. He spun around quickly and brought his empty hand around and smashed his fist into the side of Millennial's face. The ill-fitting mask flew off the man and Namon felt his jaw crunch beneath his fist. Teeth and blood quickly followed after the mask. Darth Millennial was spun around from the force of the punch and fell to the ground. Namon turned around again to finish off Kinsa, but found himself suddenly unable to move.

Kinsa walked around to face him. Namon strained with all his might, trying in vain to break out of this mysterious binding. Kinsa lifted her saber preparing to strike him down. He remembered Kinsa had once told him that Jedi didn't strike down bound, helpless men. Clearly, she had changed. Kinsa's lightsaber paused for a moment; she held it in both hands poised over her head, no doubt savoring the moment before she killed him.

Namon was prepared for this end; he had lived all he could. Darth Cognus would find another apprentice and the Sith line would survive, even if it was without him. Her saber began its descent; time seemingly slowed. Suddenly, without warning, she was out of his view, replaced by a field of electricity.

 **K** insa felt the burning pain and shielded herself quickly from the lightning, managing to take minimal damage. She was still pushed back by the force of the lightning, but she managed to land on her feet, unharmed, with only superficial burns. She settled herself and glared at the man who had taken her moment of victory. She was taken back once again by his deathly appearance. She had known he was old and unhealthy, but it showed so much worse in his face. His skin was so tightly stretched over the dry skull he called a face that it looked like it was going to snap. He had scraggly wild hair that was falling out in some places and a beard that fell from his dry, drawn-in mouth to his caved-in chest. His thin, pale skin showed veins beneath. The blue veins were so prominent it from where she was standing, it looked as if his entire face had a blue hue. Besides the scary blue, the only colour on his face was the bright red blood leaking from his mouth where Rogin had hit him. He looked so unnatural it was a second before she even noticed his third eye. It was orange and small and it seemed to bore into her as she stared at it. She shivered as she saw it blink; this was an extremely unsettling man. He looked so strange and unnatural she would have guessed he was some strange near-human species if not for her past experience with the effects of the Dark side on people. The man turned from her and quickly ran to retrieve his mask that had fallen on the floor; if she looked that bad, wearing a mask would probably be that important to her too. She started to step forward, hoping to finally finish off Rogin while he was still trapped in her Force stun and the mutant human was distracted. As she stepped towards him, she was blown back again.

 **N** amon roared and his energy was released in a concussive Force repulse, shattering the invisible bonds containing him and pushing Kinsa further away from him. The wave expanded outward from Namon and slammed into Darth Millennial just as he wrapped his fingers around his mask, sending him flying away.

Namon chastised himself for his moment of failure. He needed to keep his senses open for any threats all around him in this battle. He wasn't used to fighting more than one person at once. He'd fought Darth Cognus and her illusions at the same time before, but it was different with real people, less predictable. He backed up so he could see both Kinsa and Darth Millennial at the same time. His two opponents stood up and glared at him, Kinsa brushing the dust off her clothes while Darth Millennial hurriedly put his mask back on.

 **T** his was all a test, just a test from the Force. Darth Millennial knew he couldn't defeat the monster alone nor could he defeat the Jedi alone; he had never seen someone as imposing as Rogin be held in a Force stun, and the reptilian beast had been trapped for quite some time. Knowing this, the Force had brought them both, so they could defeat each other. The Force was testing him. He had to use his mind to win this battle, not his muscles like some simpleton brute. He would play them against each other, wisely staying on the outskirts of the conflict while they tired themselves out; then he could extinguish whichever one of them survived. It was all just a test.

 **K** insa jumped to Rogin immediately and hit the ground running. She switched her lightsaber to her left hand and stabbed low at his legs, forcing the gigantic man to bend low to block it. She shot up quickly with her fist extended, aiming for his head. She cocooned her fist with the Force to protect herself from his thick, sharp scales. As they connected, Rogin was rocked backwards, but not nearly as much as she had expected. Before she could press into offence, she had to twist to avoid a stab aimed at her chest. She was force00d to quickly duck at a follow up slash aimed at her head, amazed at the speed of his attacks. He followed-up that attack with a two-handed swipe from the other side aimed at her stomach. Tired of dodging, she brought her saber to bear, using an inverted grip and holding it in a downward guard.

The intensity of his cleaving swipe overwhelmed her and it almost forced the saber from her grasp. His sword continued on, unimpeded by her block, cutting through her shirt and slicing a shallow line across her abdomen. She immediately put the pain in a box and forced it away, concentrating on the task at hand. She ducked under his next attack and immediately jumped up and flipped forward over him before he could attack again. As she soared over him, her head pointed to the ground, she rained blows down on him.

 **N** amon held his sword up, easily blocking Kinsa's rapid but predictable strikes. If she hoped to surprise or overwhelm him with the flips and dashes, she would be disappointed. He had trained with Darth Cognus, who primarily utilized a varied form of form four, Ataru, on offence which focused on frequent jumps, quick spins and other acts of agility.

He spun around, Qyâsik Derriphan outstretched to turn him faster. Just as she landed, the sword moved towards her. She bent backwards, almost folding in half to avoid his screaming blade. He swung his sword up and was about to redirect it to a downward chop when he felt something brewing on the fringes of his perception, coming from behind him.

 **A** fter watching the fast-paced fight for only a few seconds he could tell the Jedi had a slight disadvantage, one that would quickly lead to her defeat. He was convinced the slight edge came from the mysterious sword the monster held, tainting it with his filthy claws. The Jedi didn't understand what the weapon could do and so she would fall to it; Darth Millennial couldn't have that happen, not yet. He shot a quick stream of lightning at the brute's back, hoping to distract him for a moment allowing the Jedi to gain the advantage and prolong the fight a little more.

 **B** efore he could even respond to the tingle at the edge of his perception, Qyâsik Derriphan swung backwards, seemingly moving on its own without him doing anything. He felt the surge of energy pass through the sword and into him, and he knew without looking that his weapon had absorbed the lightning. He didn't have time not to contemplate what it meant that his sword seemed to have defended him by itself. He swung the sword back around and into an over handed chop.

 **K** insa had time to recover her balance, so she was able to simply side step as the blade descended down on her. As it flew past her she noticed its strange colouring. Usually Namon's sword was a dark, smoky grey but, at the moment, it was a brilliantly gleaming white. She remembered that had been its colour when she had first announced herself and entered the fray. She knew that was important but, in the short time before the sword hit the floor, she couldn't remember what it meant.

 **R** ather than stopping the sword or changing its direction, Namon simply let it smash into the floor. He steeled himself for the explosion of electrical energy. His sword clanged against the stone floor and released its lightning. The ball of bright white electricity immediately expanded outward like a bomb. Namon felt the sharp burning pain as the field passed over him, but he had been prepared; the brunt of the lightning had been absorbed by his Force shield. Kinsa, however, had not been so lucky.

 **K** insa had been taken completely off guard by the sudden discharge of deadly energy. She lay in a crumpled heap at Namon's feet, still alive but badly wounded. She drew a few haggard breaths and tried to push herself to her feet. Her burnt skin and twitching nerves protested the action and her arms gave out. She fell back to the floor, her chin slamming painfully into the stone. She thought it was strange that Rogin hadn't finished her off yet.

 **L** ightning had expanded like a giant balloon being pumped with air. By the time it had reached Darth Millennial, it had expanded and dissipated enough for him to just let it pass harmlessly over him. He saw the Jedi was in trouble, so he ran at Namon to protect her. Darth Millennial flew about wildly with amazing speed and precision, pressing his attack as best as he could, changing the direction of his saber mid attack, and using Force attacks to trip up and confuse the dimwitted, hulking mass of flesh. Clearly he was wrong; this wasn't a test. Well, it was, but not in the way he thought. He was clearly holding his own here; he didn't need the Jedi to defeat the monster or the monster to defeat the Jedi. The Force was just testing his self-control. He could easily defeat both of them alone, but he was supposed to watch as the aliens fought it out without joining in himself. His mission now was to see how long he could keep the two of them fighting.

So, now he was toying with the slow beast while he waited for the weak Jedi to get up and rejoin the fight. He used the Force to grab a large chunk of stone from the broken wall and launched it at Rogin's side. He then sped his attack up to unthinkable speeds, trying to keep the silly beast from detecting the chunk of stone bearing down on him.

 **N** amon felt something coming from Qyâsik Derriphan. It wasn't the continual transference of the Force; it felt like some kind of warning. He focused less on the confusing flailing of the old man he had come to kill and widened his perception. He saw the stone flying towards him and he ducked as a huge block of stone whizzed over his head. It continued on to the line of children up against the walls beside them. One of the older, female children grabbed a young boy in the stone's path and yanked him out of harm's way.

There was a millisecond pause in the fighting; both he and Darth Millennial were shocked he had avoided the rubble. Before the battle joined again, Namon thrust his hand out, pushing lightly with the Force. He easily broke through Darth Millennial's Force shield and knocked him off balance, forcing him to take a couple steps back to stabilize himself. Namon took a quick lunging step forward and punched out with his left hand. It collected solidly with the metal mask, bending it inward. He head Darth Millennial scream in pain as the bent metal pierced his skin, further damaging his already disfigured face. Darth Millennial backed up quickly, waving his saber frantically to cover his retreat.

 **P** ain radiated from his face as Darth Millennial practically ran from the hulking, scaly monstrosity. What an idiot. The Force had told him not to get involved; he had stayed in the fight for too long and this was his punishment. If he had just gotten out when he was supposed to, when the Force had told him to he would have been fine, and his mask wouldn't be bent. He didn't want to take it off because he needed the connection it gave him, but it dug into his skin whenever he moved. It had missed his third eye by a few centimeters, at least the Force had given him that. It was a good punishment, making the thing he needed hurt him; it was poetic. He couldn't see out of the mask anymore, so he needed to either remove or fix it. He put his hand on the metal mask and tried to force the kink out slightly but, of course, he couldn't bend the solid metal; the Force was too smart for that. He ripped it off his face, grunting in pain as the jagged metal slid out of the messy laceration it had created in his nose.

He used the pain in his face and the anger at his failure to tap into the Force within him. He shot a broad Force wave at Rogin, opting for a purely physical attack rather than Force lightning which seemed to have no effect on him. The oncoming wave caught up to him just as he was turning to the struggling Jedi, overwhelming his defences and knocking him forward onto his face. Darth Millennial paused for a few seconds to catch his breath and push away the pain of his face. He looked past Rogin and saw the Twi'lek slowly rising to her knees; it was about time.

 **K** insa stood for a moment, her muscles still twitching from the overload of electricity. She had managed to bury the pain of her burnt, bubbling flesh, but she couldn't control her muscle spasms. She resigned herself to ignore the random spasms and ran at Rogin, who was just standing to face her. She didn't know what had happened between Rogin and the mutant while she was down but, clearly, the older man was the reason she wasn't dead. She gathered and internalized the Force as she ran, using it to augment her speed and strength and heal the smallest of her wounds.

She dove forward, planting her hands on the ground for a moment, letting her momentum carry her legs over her arms before pushing off her hands. She launched herself horizontally, feet first towards Rogin. Her heels smashed into his chin, launching him onto his back. Her momentum carried her past Rogin and she landed roughly behind him, but still on her feet.

 **N** amon grunted as he slammed once again onto the stone floor, this time landing on his back. His head hit the hard stone and his jaws compressed together, chipping the tips of a couple teeth. He swung his sword up, barely blocking Kinsa's downward chop. He frantically blocked as Kinsa hammered her lightsaber down on him. Suddenly, a bright red, flipping lightsaber flew into his view. It bounced off Kinsa's lightsaber, stopping her next hacking slash and returning to Darth Millennial. Namon took advantage of the opportunity and kicked up at her. His foot slammed into the inside of her thigh, forcing her leg out and making her collapse to one knee.

Namon jumped up before she could rise to her feet. He stabbed down at her just as she was getting up. She hit his sword to the side, parrying the blow rather than trying to take the brunt of it. She slashed up with her saber as she pushed herself up. Rather than block it Namon simply, let the saber hit, using the Force to deflect the burning saber. He felt the sting on his chest but kept it from piercing his scales.

 **H** er legs ached as she got her feet underneath her; Rogin's kick had stretched the muscles of her inner thigh. There was no understanding Rogan's defences. It seemed like he could block any lightsaber attack he wanted and turn any amount of lightning into a weapon for himself. Yet, the kick had knocked him to his back, and she had seen him be affected by other Force based attacks.

She ducked under a Rogin's slash, then took two quick steps back to avoid being cleaved in two, her over-extended muscles quickly recovering. Kinsa took a quick step forward and kicked at his abdomen, but almost bounced off his scaly stomach. She swore she saw him laugh at her pathetic attack as he lifted his sword and stabbed at her. Kinsa spun around his sword and lashed out with her lightsaber, aiming for his hip. At the last second before she hit him, she shifted the angle of her blow and hit his leg.

A sick smile crept onto her face as she felt her lightsaber bite into his flesh. Her smile dropped as she felt something coming behind her. She spun quickly, abandoning Rogin, to see the older man, his mask abandoned and his face wild and bloody, descending upon her. As she stepped back from Rogin, she shot a thin tendril of her dark lightning at the masked mutant. He easily batted her pathetic attack away and continued on. She could have conjured more lightning, but she was still hesitant; she still got lightheaded whenever she used too much.

He came in high, cutting diagonally at her neck. She met his saber in a reverse grip above her head. It felt nice to be able to block an attack again: Rogin's sword was so heavy it often felt unstoppable. He bounced off her saber and came back with the same attack on the other side; she simply turned her wrist and blocked again. He continued pounding down on her from above; a curdling scream came from his disfigured face and his attacks became more and more ferocious. As she walked back she saw Rogin nursing his leg from the corner of her eye. She wanted to go after him, but the mutant's quick, brutal attacks forced her to concentrate on defence.

 **W** ith shaking legs and gritted teeth, Namon got to his legs under him, putting up thick barriers in an attempt to block out the pain. He saw Darth Millennial pressing into Kinsa, forcing her to retreat, but he knew the Sith wouldn't be able to hold the advantage for long. He gripped Qyâsik Derriphan tightly, feeding it his pain, frustration and rage. He used the Force the sword returned to him to stoke the fires within him until they burned white hot. The burning heat in his core spread out, taking over his entire body. He Force-leaped over his two enemies locked in combat, ignoring the flash of pain from his gashed leg.

As he reached the apex of his jump, he couldn't contain the roar of rage that tore through him. The fighting paused and they looked up at him as he descended down. The fighting broke as they moved to get away from him and prepared their defences before he slammed to the ground.

When he landed, his Force created tremors in the ground that spread out from him. Both his opponents managed to stay standing, but they took small steps backwards, trying to find footing on a floor that had just become a mess of rubble.

Before the earth calmed, he struck out at Darth Millennial, who was barely able to get his lightsaber up in time to meet his brutal two-handed slash. His sword blew past the older man's weak defences and forced his lightsaber from his grasp. Namon grunted with strained effort as he reversed the powerful attack with only one hand, using his left hand to shoot a torrent of lightning at Kinsa, who had just recovered enough to join the fight.

His reversal had been too slow and Millennial was able retreat, recalling his lightsaber back to his outstretched hand as he stepped away. Kinsa reached out with her hands, taking the lightning and shooting it back at Namon. Instead of using his blade to absorb it, Namon simply ducked under the stream, letting it continue on to Darth Millennial, who used his reacquired lightsaber to deflect the thin bolt of lightning. It flew over to the line of children followers and, once again, the same female jumped in the way of the lightning and absorbed it, protecting younger cultists around her from the deadly bolt.

At the same time, the two smaller opponents jumped at him, Kinsa coming in high and Darth Millennial striking low as if they had coordinated their attack. Namon blocked turned and blocked Darth Millennial's attack with one hand and used the other to Force-push Kinsa. It wasn't strong enough to push Kinsa back, but it managed to interrupt her attack and take her out of the fight for just a moment. He pressed in on Darth Millennial, swinging at his chest. While he was attacking the older Sith, he used the Force to locate Kinsa behind him. He felt Kinsa swing at his back and he responded with his tail. He swooshed it at her legs as Kinsa extended forward to hit his back. His tail connected with her legs and swiped them out from under her; he felt her fall to her back. Still facing Darth Millennial, he reached out with his free hand at his Master's old apprentice. He grabbed onto the man and flung the skinny wretch backwards, easily tossing him over Kinsa, who was just starting to stand. Before Darth Millennial landed, he righted himself and used the Force to lower himself slowly and softly to the ground. He launched himself high, up and over both Kinsa and Namon, back to the position he was in before.

Namon took a few steps back, repositioning so the three combatants were in a triangle rather than a line with him in the middle.


	23. Chapter 23

**CardiacCane:** I'm glad you liked these last chapters, means a lot since I'll probably re-read your stuff to help with my writing. Yes Millennial goes back and forth often, I've always enjoyed unreliable narrators in stories and try to have one in mine where it makes sense.

A/N Late update because I didn't get back to my house until super late yesterday.

 **Reviews/critiques/questions always welcome**

 **23**

 **K** insa studied her opponents in the calm moments before battle. Rogin had blood dripping from his face, some of his teeth were clearly broken in half, he had lots of scales missing or dented and he had a huge blackened gash on the outside of his right thigh. The mutant's mask was broken and discarded. His jaw was broken and puffy and his nose had a huge painful red cut across it which appeared pressed into his face. His right eye was almost swollen shut.

Now she took stalk of herself. She had one or two cracked ribs, probably from when Namon had kneed her earlier in the fight or when he had kicked her in the chest later on. It felt like someone was lightly stabbing her every time she took a breath. She had a thin superficial cut running across her abdomen just under her chest. Her skin was pretty severely burnt; in some places the top layers had cracked and split, the under layers bubbling up. Besides her skin, the clothes she wore were littered with blackened holes and her entire body was sore from the explosion.

The stillness was broken by the mutant, who lunged at her with a deranged growl. She moved her saber up, deflecting his stab. She knew Namon would attack her next, so she spun to face him but left her sword arm behind. She twirled her saber into a reverse grip and blocked the follow-up slash by the mutant without looking at it. Staying in reverse grip, she swung her arm around and connected with Rogin's sword before he could gain any momentum on his attack. She brought her arm up and switched her grip, bringing her saber down in a two-handed chop. Rogin brought his guard up and Kinsa pressed down with all her strength, trying unsuccessfully to overpower him. She gave up and let her lightsaber slide down his sword, sending up a strange spray of electrical sparks. She twirled quickly, batting away yet another stab from the bearded man that had been announced to her by a desperate yell. She completed her spin and, once again, was facing Rogin. She came down on his right shoulder, forcing him into an awkward block. She quickly slid her saber up his sword, this time aiming to gouge into his head. He simply twisted his wrist so the guard of his sword handle was facing up. Clearly, it was made of whatever strange material his blade was, because it stopped her lightsaber as well. She was only centimeters from his face and she tried in vain to push her lightsaber past his defences.

She realized suddenly that was playing completely to his strength, strength, instead of hers: speed. She came at him from the other side, forcing him to move his guard; before she hit his sword, she moved lower, aiming for his ribs, forcing him to quickly bring his sword to block. Before she could continue her plan to overwhelm him with speed, she heard a grunt from behind her. She pivoted sideways and a red lightsaber stabbed in front of her. She chopped down, trying to hit the man's arm, but had to abandon the strike in order to dip under a backhanded swipe from Rogin's clawed left hand. As she came up she brought her lightsaber up, aiming for under Namon's arm that had just swung out wide. Rogin managed to bring his sword down on Kinsa's lightsaber and push it down, but not before Kinsa clipped his underarm.

Though there was no noise, she could feel the mutant coming at her with a crossing slash. She held her hilt low, her blade pointed up, and blocked it. She swung her saber to the left, forcing his to come along with it. She then retraced her weapon's path, aiming to cut him about the chest. He stepped back quickly and Kinsa pushed forward with the Force, using his backward momentum to force him onto his back, giving her some time alone with Rogin. She turned to him, planning to start an attack sequence, but Rogin had already recovered from the tiny wound she had inflicted and he was on the offence.

 **N** amon was swinging wildly, just trying to land a blow on this Jedi. She was almost as good as Darth Cognus at frustrating him with her elusiveness. She was dipping, jumping and dodging, but Namon knew eventually he would be moving too fast for her to keep up. And, at this point, he had so much power behind each swing there would be no way she could stop it. He swiped low, aiming for her legs. She jumped high over his blade and he brought his sword up, planning to slice down through her before she could dodge or jump back out of the way. As she was falling back down, she surprised him by releasing a wave of Force down at the ground; as she pushed down, she was pushed back up as if she had jumped and she started flipping backwards.

 **P** atience, it was all about patience. Before, he had been randomly trying to stab the Jedi in the back, but she somehow always knew he was there. So, now he had been lying in wait, waiting, with patience, for her to be distracted. He'd seen the beast slash at her legs and, as she jumped, he decided this was his time to strike; this was his chance. He lunged forward just as she started falling back to the ground. Then, she suddenly shocked him by jumping suddenly on thin air like it was solid ground. She flipped over him and he suddenly felt her feet on his back.

 **K** insa had felt the stab from behind, coming from the increasingly predictable mutant, without seeing it. As she was about to land from jumping over Rogin's attack at her legs, she pushed off with the Force, aiming it at the ground. It sent small pieces of the broken ground into the air and she used the Force bouncing off the floor back at her to rise up and flip over the orange-eyed mutant and his attack. Instead of landing on her back, she kept spinning, and then planted both her feet on the man's back and kicked him forward. She landed on her back, but used the Force to cushion the fall. She looked up and saw the strange old man was facing much worse.

 **D** arth Millennial was forced forward, unable to stop himself in time. He was launched forward by a mix of his own momentum and the alien woman's kick. He flew straight into the scaly man's terrible chop aimed that had been for the Jedi.

 **H** is sword came down quickly, slicing into the man's ear and loping off part of his head. It continued down and cleaved into his neck, smashing through his collarbone. It kept falling, carving through flesh and bone all the way down, almost reaching his waist.

 **I** t was finally happening. He was leaving, ascending, rising above this terrible mortal world filled with backstabbers and unworthy beings. He was being accepted by the Force. This is what he was meant for; this is why he had been born. He had been chosen before he was even born to become the one who stood by her side. This had been the plan. There had never been any test, only this, only the plan. He wasn't supposed to defeat these two beings; this was all just a threshold he had to cross over to move into the next stage, to move into godhood. He felt no pain as he floated through the open gate, into his new life; the Force protected him from the pain of death. The darkness rapidly closed in around him, he couldn't believe it was finally happening. The next time he awoke he would be with the Force, watching over the Galaxy with her. This had always been the plan.

 **W** ith a grunt, Darth Namon yanked his sword from the belly of Millennial. He watched with satisfaction as the body fell to the ground with an empty thud. And so passed the fool, the man who had rejected the Legacy of the Sith.

Darth Namon watched as Kinsa slowly got to her feet, staring at the mangled body she was partially responsible for. He saw the gears turning in her mind and he wondered what she was thinking about. Whatever it was, Namon didn't give her much time to contemplate it. He reached out with his free hand and called on Qyâsik Derriphan. The blade poured the Force into him and he conjured a river of lightning, shooting it at the meddling Jedi. If it wasn't for her he could be halfway back to Aargonar by now. He fed his excitement at becoming Darth and his growing frustration into his weapon and, in response, he drank in the Force it supplied to him, continuing his torrent of electricity. He couldn't even see her; she was surrounded on all sides by a wall of electricity. No matter how strong she was eventually he would overwhelm her Force defences.

 **K** insa felt the burning heat coursing around her, only a thin shield of Light-side Force protecting her from the burning lightning. She knew eventually it wouldn't be enough to keep it at bay; she needed a plan. As the heat burned around her, she felt a similar heat rising up inside her, starting to simmer. She recognized the heat and the Darkness and she encouraged it; she welcomed it.

Suddenly, without her releasing it, her Force shield evaporated and the lightning all rushed in. While it scorched and burnt her, the lightning also fed her. She screamed with pain as the lightning poured into her. It went into her and met with the burning inside her. The lightning coursed through her and around her, the static heat became a welcome feeling and her shrieks of pain stopped. After she had absorbed enough of his lightning and she felt like exploding with energy, she fired her own back.

 **J** ust as Namon was about to stop with his assault, he had heard her screams and he knew that no-one could survive such an attack, his river of dark blue lightning was suddenly taken over by a flood of black-purple electricity. It streamed from Kinsa in an amazing display of relentless power. It overwhelmed his own barrage and pushed his own assault back until the blue lightning sparked in front of his face, hurting his eyes. He stopped his deluge of lightning and held his sword out in front of him. At first, it was all funneled into Qyâsik Derriphan and Namon thought he had nothing to worry about. Then the blade started glowing so bright it hurt his eyes, and the pulses of energy it shot through him began to be too much. The hilt slowly started to glow as well and it burned hot. Acting on instinct, without thinking, Darth Namon dropped the blade. Filling with dread with every passing millisecond, he watched it drop slowly to the floor, seeming to move in slow motion.

What followed was an explosion like he had never seen, or felt; the lightning grabbed him and shot him backwards. He landed with a thump he didn't even feel onto the stone courtyard.

The lightning had destroyed him completely. He lay on his stomach, completely unable to move or do anything. He realized he couldn't feel a thing; he thought the lightning had somehow zapped his nerve endings. As the thought crossed through his mind his feelings came back, and it was all pain.

He felt as if he had electricity running through his veins, as if his blood had been replaced by liquid lightning. He couldn't form even the simplest thought; his brain was overloaded with pain. His heart was jumping between beating a thousand times a minute and seizing up and seemingly stopping. His aching muscles were twitching uncontrollably. He laid there on the floor, unable to control himself, twitching and seizing for what felt like half an hour, every single nerve aflame. Eventually the twitching subsided and all he got was the occasional muscle spasm. He slowly and painfully lifted his head to see what Kinsa was doing. Luckily for him, she was still lying down as well; he was nowhere near ready to move


	24. Chapter 24

**Questions/critiques/reviews always welcome**

 **24**

" **W** as that you? How did you do that? What's wrong with you?"

She was lying on soft, comfortable grass in the middle of a bright forest. The warm yellow sun shone its rays down on her, making her skin tingle with its warmth. Trees and bushes surrounded her; it felt like spring. The flowers were just starting to bloom. She could hear strange birds chirping in the distance and she imagined this forest was full of small creatures she couldn't see. This beautiful scene was broken only by a human Padawan she recognized from somewhere standing over her. She slowly sat up, her head dizzy from lying down for too long. The young Padawan still towered above her, his face bright red with emotion and covered with fear and anger. She knew he had said something, but she had been in such a lovely daze she'd missed it.

"Was that you? How did you do that? What's wrong with you? he repeated with his voice raised, demanding answers from her.

The comforting, fuzzy feeling she'd had since waking up in this beautiful place fell away immediately, replaced by a cold feeling of dread not even the sun hanging in the sky could fix. She immediately felt defensive; she had done something wrong.

"What kind of person are you?"

"No, no," she pleaded with the young boy.

She wasn't sure what she had done to deserve this treatment, but she knew, if she could just explain herself, it would be okay. She started to stand up; she no longer felt comfortable lying on the grass.

"You don't understand, you couldn't understand."

Slowly the soft face of the young boy transformed into the hard, noble features of Master Rilth. His face was lacked in his customary charming smile, replaced by a grim look of disappointment. As the face transformed, the body grew, filling into the large, broad-shouldered frame of her old Master. The scene around her transformed as well. She was still in the forest but the seasons changed quickly, turning from spring to fall. The flowers and leaves dyed and fell off, leaving behind barren, scraggly trees. The grass that had been so soft turned coarse and sharp. The sun went down, replaced by a pale moon, leaving her skin cold. A cool, wet mist filtered into the forest, sticking to her skin and obscuring her vision.

She stopped standing and sat back down, intimidated by the sudden sight of her old Master. As she looked up at him with fear she felt like a weak, fourteen-year-old child again.

"I am not your Master," Master Rilth told her, his voice hard and cutting. "No Padawan of mine would fall so far away. You are a disgrace, to me, to yourself, and to the order."

There was a stab of pain in her heart at hearing the man she had respected above all else condemn her and cast her away. She still didn't know what had caused this. She knew she had fallen away from the Jedi because they weren't doing as much as she thought they should, but she couldn't remember what had happened in the past day to make everyone so furious with her. Kinsa knew it wasn't the correct response but she still couldn't help but getting angry.

"The order is a disgrace to itself; I'm working while they do nothing. The order is a disgrace to me." She called back, raising her voice slightly.

"How dare you!" He yelled at her in a tone of voice she had heard him use only few times before.

Before he could continue, a bolt of lightning cracked from the clear sky and hit her Master. The blinding light faded and Kinsa saw he that Master Rilth caught aflame. As the fire spread along his body he made no sound and his face showed no pain. The flame consumed him and his body burned into a large pile of grey ash. A gust of cold wind came from her left, howling through the trees and making them rattle together. As it passed by her, it chilled her to the bone and swept up the pile of fine ashes. It carried them as the wind travelled on, taking them out of view and leaving her alone in the strange forest. Kinsa was ashamed to find she was relieved as her Master disappeared. She knew that the path she had taken was right. Maybe what she was doing wasn't perfect, but at least it was something. She remembered the Grey Jedi. She had stopped looking for them when she had felt herself growing Darker, but now she wished she hadn't. They would have been able to teach her how to use her emotions without changing herself; doing it all alone like she was wasn't working out as well as she'd hoped. No matter the mistakes she made though, she knew it was worth it. The Jedi, the accusing Padawan, and even Master Rilth were the ones who were wrong. She had no questions in her mind and the last thing she needed was someone looking over her shoulder and judging her for things they didn't have the strength to do.

She was feeling proud of herself and her independence. She started to stand up; she needed to find a way out of this forest when, without warning, her world started falling apart. The dark trees and starry night were replaced by growing dots of an overcast night; lightning bouncing around in the clouds; there was a stone floor, and a line of children watching her.

In a flash she snapped back to reality. She was lying on her side in the grey courtyard of the compound of this strange cult. She had come here to find and kill Rogin, the scourge of the Galaxy and the bane of her existence.

The last thing she remembered was she was channeling Sith lightning at Namon, streams and streams of it, definitely more than she had ever created before. Then there had been an explosion, of electricity, if she remembered. She assumed it was from Rogin's strange sword. Instead of the lightning burning her, however, it had fed her, pouring wild strength into her, so much that she felt like she could burst. And then it wouldn't stop and she had so much energy bouncing around inside her started trying to get out. She'd felt her muscles pull and stretch, her physical body trying desperately to hold together For a moment she honestly thought she was going unravel into nothingness. Before anything could happen, her body, like it had done in the past around Sith lightning, had just shut down.

She thought back to that weird dream she'd had. She remembered the face of the Padawan from when she had woken up after using lightning on Qwill. It must just be a sort of sense memory; her body remembered what happened last time after she had used too much lightning. She wasn't exactly sure why Master Rilth was there; though she had thought about him a lot since he had died, he hadn't come into her mind in a long time.

Her musings were interrupted by a loud scraping coming from behind her. She turned to see Rogin's sword slowly sliding across the stone floor. She followed the trajectory of the sword to see Rogin himself, hunched over, standing on shaky, twitching legs with his hand stretched towards the sword. The sword slowly sped up and lifted off the ground, flying into his hand. Immediately, Rogin stood up straighter and his legs seemed more solid beneath him. She could sense his strength returning and his legs stopped wobbling. He started a slow walk towards her, holding his sword low at his side, the tip scraping ominously across the stone floor. He seemed to grow stronger and more solid with every step he took.

Kinsa refused to wait for Rogin to get to her and start the dance where she would always end up losing. She pushed her strange dream from her mind and got to her feet. Her ribs ached slightly, but it felt like most of her wounds had been partially healed. She dashed to him before he could move his sword. She swung her saber all around, whirling it wildly in confusing patterns, trying to score a hit on her nemesis before he turned the tables on her, but she couldn't. She figured he would be slower with the heavy sword and he had seemed hurt before, but he seemed impossibly fast. Every time she tried some strange combination, hoping to slip through, all she met was his rock solid defences.

Just as she had feared, the tide of the duel slowly but surely began to change. His defences became broad sweeping moves that slapped her weightless saber away while forcing her to get out of the way of the sword. Then, without a single moment that she could call the turning point, she was on defence, and the deadly dance had begun.

Still, she was determined not to fall fully into this rut she couldn't escape from. She saw him twist his body and she knew he was getting ready to unleash a powerful slash from the side; she moved in to cut him off. Before he could build up speed or strength, she brought her lightsaber up to block the slash aimed at her chest. She stepped back, giving herself a wider stance, and set herself for the blow. His sword was out to the side, almost behind him, as he started his swing towards her. She was convinced that, since she was only leaving about a meter for him to gather speed, she could hold up to his sword. The attack connected and she felt a painful sting in her hand and her lightsaber flew from her hands.

Without even thinking about it, she jumped backwards, knowing she had to get out of Namon's range. As she moved back, trying to give herself a bit of space, she looked around for her lightsaber but couldn't see it; without vision on it, she couldn't call it back to her. She looked around the mangled body of the dead mutant, but couldn't see his lightsaber either. She assumed he was lying on it, but she didn't have time to lift the body and find out with Rogin chasing after her.

She looked around desperately for any kind of weapon she could use and her eyes fell on the lightsaber hilt hanging from Rogin's belt. It looked like the basic lightsabers Padawans constructed; she assumed he had used it before he'd found or made his current weapon. Still backpedaling away from him, she reached out with the Force and quickly called his lightsaber to her hand. It was thinner than she was used to - it felt like it was cutting into her palm - and the hilt was inexplicably long; she didn't know where to hold it. While it wasn't her baby, it would do in a pinch. She almost laughed aloud at the shocked look on Rogin's face. She stopped running back and ignited the lightsaber. Surprisingly, a bright blue blade shone out. She was extremely confused. Very few planets in the Galaxy have blue Adegan crystals and they were all policed by the Jedi; she'd been expecting the red synthetic crystals common to almost all Dark-side users. She supposed he could have made synthetic crystals that were blue instead of red, but she didn't see what the point of that would be. These were more thoughts she forced from her mind; she had much more important things to worry about.

As Rogin recovered from his surprise and started walking towards her again, Kinsa reached with her left hand to unclip the stun baton on her belt. The metal of the stun baton was Cortosis, one of the few metals in the Galaxy able to withstand a lightsaber, so she was sure it would be able to connect with Rogin's sword without breaking. She knew the stun wouldn't hurt him or slow him down; it was a well-known fact in the Galaxy that, because of their tough scales, a gun set on stun would have absolutely no effect on a Barabel, so she assumed it would be the same with a stun baton; but, she was just hoping it would be enough to give her a slight edge.

He got to her and before, he could heave his sword, she launched her attack. She spun in circles, becoming a strange and confusing whirlwind with both weapons striking out at him.

 **N** ever had Darth Namon hated that stupid lightsaber more than he did now. He had her dead to rights until she'd grabbed his own weapon from him. Now she was facing off against him with two weapons instead of none. He felt the stun baton stinging across his scales as the Twi'lek Jedi spin in a confusing untrackable cyclone. He focused solely on the lightsaber and let the stun Baton pass through his defences unimpeded. He didn't understand her attack; she was striking high then moving low, stabbing forward at him and swinging her saber behind her, the entire time spinning, seemingly just to confusing him. The stinging worsened as she landed blow after blow, and he knew eventually it would get to him. Every time it the humming metal baton struck against his scales, it hurt a little more. He tried to concentrate on her actions, not just her lightsaber. As he did, the spinning, whirling blades seemed to slow slightly and he saw an opening.

He reached out with his left hand and tried to claw at her head. The stinging and the spinning finally stopped as she leaned back, trying to avoid his grasp. Darth Namon's sharp claws scraped across her throat just as she moved back out of reach, drawing thin red lines in her pale yellow skin. He grunted in frustration; she had been so close.

He spun to the left before she could begin her whirlwind, leading his sword with one hand. She stepped back again, avoiding the blade, and so began their game: her jumping and ducking, striking out with whatever weapon she could whenever she saw the smallest opening and him pressing down on her with broad, devastating strokes, trying to pin her down and only moving to the defensive when he had to. It was a dangerous situation for both of them. Eventually, he would be too fast for her to keep dodging and eventually her lightsaber would slip past his sword enough times that he wouldn't be able to block it with the Force.

 **S** he continued retreating from Rogin's towering figure, dodging and attacking, trying to get an opening. She was terrified and frustrated at the same time. Ducking under a slash, she felt the razor-sharp blade swoosh just above her flailing Lekku, almost cutting another piece off. She slashed at his legs with both weapons. He lifted one leg and kicked at her right wrist, knocking the lightsaber askew and letting the stun baton slap harmlessly into his other leg. Without missing a beat, he brought his sword down, forcing her to abandon her low attack and side-step out of the way. She took a few steps back to give herself some space and felt something against her ankle. She couldn't look down to see what it was and she had to move back to avoid a stab from Rogin. She lifted her leg high, hoping she could clear whatever rubble was behind her. As her foot came down, she felt it hit something squishy; the un-solidness surprised her and she dropped to her back.

 **S** o caught up in the attack and defence, she had tripped on a Millennial's body. So now Kinsa, his greatest and only living enemy, lay supine on her back before him atop the decimated body of his only other enemy. with her lightsaber extinguished next to her outstretched hand. Her stun baton was still clutched in her other hand, but that wasn't really a danger. He placed the tip of Qyâsik Derriphan on her chest, ready to press down and end it, when something stopped him.

He thought back to all the amazing things he had seen Kinsa do, all the potential she had for greatness. It seemed like a waste to just destroy someone with such amazing gifts, especially someone who was clearly already on a Dark path. He knew the rule of two forbade any apprentices to have apprentices, but he didn't see the harm in doing this. He would spend all of his time training and would only contact her rarely, so it wouldn't actually be like he had an apprentice. It would just be good for him to have someone in place for when he was ready to wrest the mantle of Lord of the Sith from his Master, so he didn't have to rush to find someone else. How could he pass up a sure thing, someone so strong in the Force, someone who could make such a difference to the Sith cause?

"I've got two options for you," he told her in all seriousness.

"Oh, and what are they?" she panted, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Death," he told her, punctuating this by pushing his sword just a centimeter in forward, the tip cutting into her chest and drawing blood that trailed down her yellow chest.

"Or, you could become my secret apprentice."

 **I** f she wasn't about to die, Kinsa may have just laughed. Either Rogin was joking and he had made a pretty good joke, or he was serious; either way, it was a hilarious suggestion.

"I can tell by your face you think it's stupid, but think about it." he continued; evidently, he was serious. "Why are you a Jedi? You don't belong with them. You're only a Jedi because they picked you up when you were a young child, weak and vulnerable, and brainwashed you into believing it was the only option."

He was a few years off but, besides that, he was right.

"You can do so much more with the Sith; instead of hiding away in some temple surrounded by bureaucrats, you can travel the Galaxy and do things. Be honest with yourself: what do you owe the Jedi? Even if you did owe them something once, don't you think after all you've given them, you're even by now?"

Kinsa honestly thought about it, not for the first time. What did she owe the Jedi? They had given her shelter and training, but that was it. And, while that's nothing to brush off, she had given her life. She'd done so much for the Jedi and then they didn't even have the decency to talk to her when she has an idea. She owed the Jedi nothing, everything she'd ever done was for the Jedi.

No, she realized, her thoughts stopping in their tracks, everything she'd done hadn't been for the Jedi; it had been for the Galaxy. For its inhabitants, for the Republic. No matter what she thought she did or didn't owe to the Jedi the Galaxy had chosen her and given her a connection to the living Force. That was a debt she could never repay. It wasn't just a decision of switching between Jedi and Sith like switching between sports teams. The Jedi helped, or at least tried to help, the Galaxy, while the Sith just wanted to control it. She had found her rock; as the confusion and fear of her current situation rushed around her, she held on tight. No matter what, she was a servant of the people of the Galaxy, and she couldn't be that as a Sith.

She looked up at Namon with sternness in her eyes, completely assured in her decision.

"Death," she declared without hesitation.

Rogin simply shrugged his shoulders and she felt searing pain sliding through her ribs into her chest. She knew she was dying, but she was dying as the person she wanted to be, a person who had given everything she could for as long as she could for the good of the Galaxy.

 **D** arth Namon looked over the destructive scene: the wall blown out, a giant circle of the floor completely destroyed, and the two cut-up mangled bodies. Then, for the first time, in a long time he noticed the child cultists watching on. He had no idea what to do with them. He didn't want to be a leader of a cult, especially not to a bunch of kids, but it felt wrong just abandoning them too. He walked over to the older girl, maybe thirteen, who had saved the two younger children.

She was a human girl with a soft round face riddled with brown freckles. She had long, straight brown hair tied in a single braid and slung over the front of her shoulder. She had bright yellow eyes tainted with sadness. As Darth Namon stood before her, she only reached up to his chest. She looked up at him with a determined, strong look.

"Your name?" he asked her simply.

"My name is Inal Nohe." she responded, her voice firm and confident, not shaking with fear as he would have expected. It was a promising sign.

"If I provide you with the resources, do you believe you are capable of leading this group of Force sensitives and training them? I can provide you with food, water, someone to rebuild this compound and the scrolls and manuscripts you will need for training."

The young girl grew silent and thought for a moment, truly considering the question, another good sign.

"Yes," she finally responded. "but, on one condition. I think we should find a new temple to make our home on the planet; this one had too many bad memories."

He nodded. "As you wish." He pulled a comlink from his belt and handed it to her. "When you find your new base of operations, contact me on that and I will make all the necessary arrangements. This cult, or whatever you want to call it, is yours now and you will build into it what you will. But, my one condition is this: there will come a time when I or one of my successors will come to you. When that time comes, you will serve without hesitation or question. Understood?"

The girl kept silent and nodded her head, this time without hesitation.

"Pass this down to future generations and future leaders; the time will come," he pressed.

The girl nodded again and Namon turned to walk off; this would be another secret he kept from his Master. He had plenty of money from the Bogan to supply the small group of children and one day it might pay off.

"Sir." He heard the girl call from behind him.

He turned around to see her holding out two lightsabers. One had a thin hilt with blood red lines wrapping around it: Millennial's. The other, which belonged to Kinsa, was made of beautifully carved metal. Silver, bronze and gold masterfully woven together with some kind of stone he didn't recognize near the activator. He reached out with the Force and plucked them from the girl's hand, nodding his thanks.

Without trying he had started somewhat of a collection. First he took Grif's beautiful and different staff; then he'd had to keep the three assassins' weapons a secret, so he'd kept those; and now he would be adding these two to the collection. He placed them on his belt and slid Qyâsik Derriphan into its scabbard as he walked back out the hole he had created. One day soon, he would add his Master's strange weapons to his gallery.

 **THE END**


End file.
